#Watching the scene change from day to night was cool I want to go

[tlou-reid]

Finishing Gifts ❤︎ Aaron Hotchner

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

♡ SUMMARY: after a few days of ignoring him, Aaron makes an effort to get your behavior to return to normal

♡ WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, smut, female and male masturbation, phone sex, mentions of watching porn, sex toys, drinking, small mentions of criminal minds-esque themes and violence, pretty much porn with very little plot, this is not edited like at all

♡ NOTE: something about writing aaron masturbating makes me go brrrrrr

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You had thought you were keeping your cool. Honestly, truly, you had thought no one would notice the small changes in your behavior. You had tried to be subtle in dodging Hotch, doing it slowly and over time. It had started with piggybacking Spencer’s theories in the field, which led to pushing to go look at a crime scene rather than to the police department with Hotch. Then evolved into getting deep into conversation with JJ as you approached the jet, using it as an excuse to claim a seat next to her rather than your normal position between Hotch and the window.

These acts had gone unnoticed, or, at least, you’d thought. In your determination to avoid them, you hadn’t noticed the strange looks Derek and Morgan had thrown each other, and then Aaron, as you relaxed next to JJ. You missed Garcia questioning what had been up with you as you extended your time making coffee before a briefing, just so you didn’t have to walk behind Hotch into the room.

But, your latest change to avoid your unit chief definitely didn’t fly under the radar. This one was loud and clear, and absolutely threw off the entire BAU.

You’d just completed, by all possible metrics, a very successful case. It was a rare one, looking at terrorism in the DC area. A group of people who were planting explosives around the city, in unsuspecting areas. Instead of targeting political buildings or memorials, they focused on smaller-scale destruction. The team had been able to put the perpetrators away with no more casualties than those that were gone before the team landed. All in all, it was incredibly stressful, but a win for the team.

So, after Emily’s suggestion and Derek’s reminder that it was an extended weekend due to a government holiday, the team was getting ready to head to the bar. You had begged to go home to shower, promising you’d take an Uber (so you could, in Penelope’s words, “get fucked up with the girls”) and meet them at the bar in about an hour.

You put on your best outfit, showing an appropriate amount of cleavage, and did your makeup to the best of your abilities. After you’d cleaned up, you went to open your Uber app, excited to have a night to relax.

However, you were cut off when a phone call overtook your screen. “Aaron” the contact name read, indicating it was your unit chief, and that he was calling from his personal cellphone. You let ring a few times before picking up, not wanting to seem too eager to talk to your boss.

“Hellooo,” you practically sung into the phone, too excited to be worried about embarrassing yourself in front of him. He simply replied with a formal “hello,” followed by your name. “Please don’t tell me you’re ruining my longggg weekend,” You said to him, and he swore he could hear some of jewelry shaking. You couldn’t keep your excitement in, shaking your wrists, which made your bracelets make noise.

He chuckled a bit at your reaction to him calling, “No, no. I was just calling to see if you had left yet.” You smiled against the phone, knowing where this conversation was going. “Nope! I was actually ordering my Uber when you called,” you informed him. “So, you haven’t ordered it?” He questioned again, to which you replied with a “uh-uh”.

You couldn’t tell but your excitement about going out with your friends was essentially oozing through the phone, causing Aaron to maintain a bright smile on his face. You weren’t aware of how your vibe, your energy, was able to lift a weight off of Aaron’s shoulders that had been there for as long as he could remember.

“I also had to run home before meeting the team. If you’d like, I can pick you up.” Your smile, somehow, grew even bigger. Any excuse to see Aaron was a good one, you’d thought.

However, your face quickly fell when you reminded yourself that you were supposed to be avoiding him. You felt a pang in your heart as you said, “Thanks, but I have a few things to finish up here! I appreciate the offer, Hotch.”

With a quick, formal goodbye, the called ended. Aaron tried to ignore the fact that you lied to him as he drove the rest of the way. You had said you were about to call your Uber, and he heard your jewelry, meaning you were putting the finishing touches on your outfit. So why wouldn’t you accept his ride?

He tried to ignore the blow to his chest when you called him Hotch. Something about the use of his last name made him feel as if he’d done something wrong. Not that it was unusual for you, or anyone really, to call him that. It was the emphasis you’d put on it. As if you were trying to make it known he was Hotch and not Aaron.

Aaron tried to turn off his profiling ability, but it was proving to be had as all of his thoughts were currently encompassed by you.

The night, and the whole weekend if you were being honest, went by in a blur. You could tell Aaron had noticed the change in your behavior. You were standoffish at the bar, pretty much avoiding any conversation with him. You just hoped by the end of the long weekend it would be forgotten, and you’d be able to continue work as normal.

This dream was quickly demolished as Aaron was summoning you into his office before you had the chance to even put your bag down and unpack your files.

The sound of calling your last name both frightened and intrigued you. You couldn’t help but be attracted to the authority in his voice, even if it could mean you were going to be in trouble.

As you stepped into the voice, Aaron didn’t even look up. He mumbled a “shut the door, please,” as he finished recording some notes on an opened file in front of him. You stood awkwardly by the door, waiting for some kind instruction or reasoning from him.

“Please,” he gestured to the seats in front of his desk. You nodded, clumsily making your way to them. “I didn’t mean to scare you or make you uncomfortable by calling you in here,” he began.

You weren’t sure if you were more scared by being called into his office, to have a conversation that required you to both sit down and shut the door, or the intense eye contact he was maintaining as he introduced whatever discussion you two were about to have.

“I just couldn’t help but notice,” he paused for a second, trying to find the right words to say, “a recent change in your behavior.” You hoped he didn’t notice the way your eyes went wide, knowing you’d been caught. You didn’t have to ask what he was talking about to know you’d been caught, but you did anyway, “What do you mean?” You thought you were playing your part well, furrowing your eyebrows to truly emphasis your fake confusion.

“It feels as though you’ve been avoiding me.” Aaron says. His tone isn’t angry or even authoritative, but rather, disappointed. There’s a slight huff in the way he spoke. He didn’t give you a chance to defend yourself before he continued, “Which is fine if you so choose to do so. I would just like to know if it was because of something I did and if I could fix it. I want the team to function as well as it can, and I feel as though it would not if there was conflict between you and I.”

Aaron had to find a professional spin to throw his statement, knowing the professionalism of this situation was debatable at best. “Oh, sir,” you blushed, not really knowing what to say, “I don’t believe there is any conflict between us.” Your voice was formal, too formal. It was obvious you were under pressure. “So, what is it then?” He questioned.

You could feel yourself growing small under his intense stare. You could also feel the wet patch growing between your legs, making you slightly uncomfortable.

“You, uh, you kind of make nervous.” With your quiet voice and stutter, and the way your thighs squeezed together, it was easy for Aaron to pick up on the reason he made you nervous. His cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink instantaneously. “Oh,” his voice trailed off, followed by your quiet, “yeah.”

There was a few beats of silence before he cleared his throat. “Well, I’m glad to hear there’s no issues between us.” You nodded with his words, growing even more nervous. Your mouth was moving before your brain could catch up, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to, it’s just been a minute since I’ve, ya know, and I know you’re boss but I will be completely professional and this will not effect my work in or out of the field.”

While you mean to be assuring your boss that your attraction to him was no detriment to your work, you just admitted that it’s been a minute since you’ve had an orgasm. You needed to end this conversation quickly.

“If that’s all,” You said as you stood, “I have a few more reports to finish.” Aaron simply nodded, dismissing you back into the bullpen. You made a break for the bathroom, hoping to have a few minutes to collect yourself before facing the race of the team. You felt exposed, knowing you were entering a room of profilers after since a painful experience. You needed some time alone.

After a mini-breakdown, and cleaning up your messed up mascara, you made your way to your desk. Calm and collected. That’s all you had to be. Calm and collected.

Serial killers and other criminals had quieted down for the week, in an unlikely turn of events. You’d only had to travel for one day, quickly solving a kidnapping case and the finding the perpetrator. The week flew by swimmingly. Nothing odd had happened.

Until you opened your door Saturday morning.

You hadn’t ordered anything, that much you were sure of. Even if you did, you tended to shop at places with bright packaging that made you feel like you were opening a gift when it was delivered. This unsuspecting, plain box was not here on your accord, yet it had your name and address on it.

The FBI agent side of you flipped into protection mode, racing to grab your phone and dial up the one person you knew that could tell you what to do if there happened to be a bomb inside of the box. Derek Morgan. “Pretty girl, why are you facetiming me at 8:27am on a Saturday?” He teased with a smile on his face. No matter what time it was, Derek was ready to listen.

“I got this box and I don’t know what it is. I just want someone to be around when I open it.” You informed him, sitting down next to the box. You should probably be standing, just in case you had to make a run for it but you were too worried about getting it open to think that far ahead.

“Alright,” He said, urging you to open it. You nodded to him, setting up the phone so he could you see and the box in the frame. You carefully tore off the tape, and let out a sigh of relief when nothing happened when it moved. You lifted the flaps slowly, taking a loud gasp when you saw it was. You hoped Derek didn’t see, and moved quickly to pick up your phone to hang up before he could.

“It’s not a bomb! I’m good, thanks Derek!” You rushed, hanging up before he could say anything. Your eyes didn’t leave the box as you let your arms fall to your sides. Sitting inside of it was a small, pink rose toy. A vibrator. That you definitely didn’t order.

You grabbed the box, hoping none of your neighbors saw it. It’s not that masturbation was wrong or immoral or that you didn’t partake, it was just weird if the people around you were aware of your toys.

So, you made sure your door was tightly closed before putting the box on the table and digging through it. There was all the normal things, the vibrator itself, large bubble wrap, and a paper receipt with the name of the product: Intimately GG Rose Suction Simulator from Pink Cherry.

However, there was another piece of paper at the bottom of the box. It was a typed note that read, “I hope this helps us go back to normal. A.H”. You knew exactly one person with the initials A.H. so it wasn’t rocket science to figure out who had ordered you this sex toy.

You weren’t sure if you were more turned on or embarrassed.

Aaron was your boss. Your kind, protective, strong, hot, sexy, boss. But still your boss. You wondered if this is something he would’ve done for someone like Emily or Penelope if they’d been in your predicament. It clicked quickly that it definitely wasn’t, and that made you special in Aaron Hotchner’s eyes.

So, you made a mental note to give him a call, after you tried out your toy. Luckily, you had your cleaning solution and an old bottle of lube from your past encounters. You made quick work of getting the toy clean and finding a video to help you get yourself off.

Of course, the man in the video was a white man who was bit older, with broad shoulders and black hair. No coincidence there.

You started with your boobs, taking time to massage each one before pulling on and pinching them to get yourself warmed up. Between the sounds coming from the video and the excitement of finally having time to yourself, your hands didn’t take long to move downwards, tracing along the length of your body. One hand continued caressing your side as the other made its way to your core.

The thought of Aaron going out of his way to help you get off and the visual of a man who looked similar to him getting his dick sucked had you borderline dripping on your bedsheets as you used your hand to start toying with your clit. You started with small circles, matching the speed of the girl sucking Aaron’s lookalike’s dick.

You stayed like this for a while, allowing yourself to go slow, really take your time pleasuring yourself. The guy in the video had already finished on the girl’s tits by the time you reached for your rose toy. You didn’t need the visual anymore, perfectly crafting dirty scenarios of your unit chief in your head.

You started on low. There was gentle sucking on your clit as you imagined the way Aaron would kiss. He’s experienced, you know that for sure. You could imagine the way he’d start gentle, maybe even cupping your face as he pulled you close. He’d let you feel like you were in charge, before his tongue made its way inside your mouth. His dominant side would take over, using his body to press you against whatever surface you were sat on.

As you fantasized about his dominant side, you cranked up the toy to the next level. You let out a loud moan at the new feeling. Your free hand moved back to your breast, squeezing, while you did your best to imagine Aaron’s large hands doing it instead.

You could feel the coil in your tummy getting tighter and tighter as you imagined Aaron slowly stripping your body, dragging his hand along each and every curve. With a sharp pinch to your nipple and a cry of Aaron’s name, you came undone all over your rose toy.

You could feel your slick dripping down your hand as you worked yourself through your orgasm, making sure to enjoy it for as long as you could. You wished you could savor this feeling. It was the strongest, best orgasm you’d ever had. Nothing could compare to the euphoria you felt right now.

You flicked the toy off and sat it to the side once the feeling became too much. You couldn’t bring yourself to move from your position. “Fuck,” you breathed out, trying to relax the hard rise and fall of your chest.

Once you were able to relax, you made your way to the shower. You knew you had to call Aaron, but you needed to be much more relaxed than you were right now to have that conversation. The sting from the hot water helped ground you, allowing you to clear your mind. After you cleaned yourself, you cleaned the toy and put everything in your nightstand drawer for future use.

Then, you reached for your cellphone. You quickly found Aaron’s personal number and hit the call button before you could overthink what you were doing. He picked up on the second ring. “Hotchner,” he said, probably out of habit. “Hello, Aaron,” you smiled. This is the conversation you’d had with him in a while that didn’t make you feel nervous. “Hello,” he echoed with your name. You didn’t know, but he was smirking on the other side of the phone. He’d been waiting for this call.

“You sent me a gift?” You asked. “I did. Have you received it?” He wasn’t sure what grew more, his smirk or his cock. “I have. I’ve opened it and took it for a test run as well.” The way you two were beating around the bush was a turn on, but the way he sounded so self-assured, as if he knew what you were going to say, had you clenching your thighs together.

“How did it perform?” Aaron questioned, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table in front of him. This tightened the dress pants he was wearing against his hardened cock. “Very well,” You smiled. “I’m happy to hear that. I hope this is the end of all of your weird behavior.” Aaron chuckles. Just the sound of his laugh has you reaching your hand to squeeze the fat of your thighs.

“What weird behavior, Aaron?” You questioned, teasingly. This conversation is very different than any you’d had before, and it was turning you. You didn’t think it was possible with the strong orgasm you’d maybe an hour ago. But, Aaron was a special individual. He had that effect on you.

“You were avoiding me,” He scoffed. “I don’t know if I was. I think it was self-control,” You smiled, knowing you were baiting him. Without missing a beat, he took the bait, “And why did you need to practice self-control?”

Aaron leaned back in his chair, opting to press his hand against his cock instead of using the soft fabric to provide some kind of friction. He needed more, that much he knew.

“Because I was trying not to jump your bones, Aaron.” You breathed out. Your words had him squeezing his bulge, feeling like he could bust just from knowing you were attracted to him. “Fuck,” Aaron groaned into the phone. You giggled at his reaction, moving to press your hand against your core, again.

“Tell me about your toy,” He demanded, finally using the authoritarian tone that helped you get into this situation in the first time. “So you can touch yourself while I do?” You questioned, assuming he was in the same position as you. “Is that okay?” He questioned. “Of course it is, Aaron.” You promised, and used your permission as an excuse to unbutton his pants, and shove his hand under the waistband of his boxers.

As you started talking, he spread the precum, that’s been oozing from his pretty pink tip since he saw your contact name, along the length of his dick. “It was so good, Aaron. That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah?” Aaron encouraged you to keep going as he started stroking his cock. “Yeah,” You whined out, “I wish you could’ve seen me. My legs were shaking and I was leaking so much.” You smirked as you heard him groan in to the phone. His strokes had quickened in length. All he could picture was you spread out on his bed, cumming around his cock.

“What did you think about while you came?” You were surprised he was able to get the question out, especially because he only stuttered once. You wished you could see the way he squeezed his eyes together as he tugged on his cock. “You, obviously. I was thinking about your lips and your hands. I finished before I could get to the good part. I wanted to picture you fucking me from behind, pressing my face into the mattress.”

You were going to continue describing your fantasy to him, but he cut you off with a “Fuck!” as he came down his hands.

The line was silent for a few minutes before you spoke, “Hey, Aaron?” He hummed out a “yeah?”, before you asked, “Do you want to come over?”

“Give me ten minutes,” He promised, “and have the toy out.”

Well, you couldn’t refuse that.

[iceandpeaches]

hi idk if you know the summer i turned pretty but there’s a scene where a character says “My chest physically hurts not being able to tell her how. much I love her” and I can just imagine luke being in love with a poseidon!daughter where her dad doesn’t approve of anyone for her. He tells percy about his chest hurting and will catch glimpses of Luke actually placing a hand on his chest whenever percy’s sister is around or walks away 😫😫😫 bonus if he actually PRAYS to poseidon angst but fluff ughhh

oh anon you cooked… the praying to poseidon part made my own chest hurt hurt.. i'm kinda familiar with tsitp but i never watched it.. sorry this is kinda long!! i hope this was good🙈🙈🙈

my chest hurts; luke castellan

for years, luke had been hopelessly in love with you. from the moment you step foot at camp after being attacked, he knew he wouldn’t love anybody other than you. he was excited he could spend time with you while you were still unclaimed, but upset when you were claimed by poseidon. he couldn’t spend every moment with you anymore, by your side, your best friend. 

he was devasted that he couldn’t see you from the moment he woke up till the moment he fell asleep. with you now residing in the quiet and slightly eery poseidon cabin, you were only part of his dreams if the gods allowed it.

and with poseidon being your father, he wanted to be in your life. which meant that with you and percy, he wanted to keep his children safe from the world and people that could harm you. which is why, poseidon declared to deny any boy who asked for his blessing to date you. upon hearing such, luke never gave up hope. he’d find a way to persuade your father, somehow. 

luke headed to your cabin to look for you, walking in since he knew it would be open. it wasn’t like there were hundreds of kids running in and out all day. 

“hey y/n– oh. is she not here?”

luke glanced down at your younger brother, sat by the body of water that sat in the middle of your cabin. poseidon kids. 

“yeah she’s.. mad at me right now. she went for a swim.”

“oh. then i’ll wait for her to come back.”

luke sat by percy, fingers tapping against the area that held a pool of water. he got bored after a while, turning to percy he stared out into the opening of the cabin door. 

“hey percy.. could i tell you something?”

“yeah, what’s up?”

“it’s just.. i want to be with y/n. i think about her all the time. and it hurts, like my chest physically hurts. to be able to tell her that i’m in love with her.”

luke gripped his shirt, thinking about every moment you smiled at him, laughed at his jokes, your eyes lighting up everytime you mention something about the water or going for a late night swim, every hug, everything you did. there was something so special about you, and he wanted you to know how special you were to him. percy watched as his friend’s grip tightened on a portion of his clothing, brows creased into a frown. 

an hour or so passed, and you’d come back from your cool off swim. luke’s lips curled into a gentle smile, noticing that your hair was wet which emphasised the curls in your hair. your expression brightened upon seeing luke, your towel wrapped around your shoulders.

“luke! what are you doing here?”

“well, you’re late.”

“to?”

“bracelet making with the hermes cabin.. duh! only the best cabin ever.”

you refrained from laughing, patting him on the back. you nod in acknowledgment, grabbing a fresh camp tee and a pair of shorts to slip into running toward the bathrooms to go change. luke smiled, feeling pressure in his chest again which caused him to grip his shirt as he followed behind you. 

for the next few days, luke’s chest hurt more than it usually did. for after every interaction with you, he had to take a moment to himself to breathe it out. several times percy had caught him with a hand on his chest whenever you’d walk away to tend to another camper’s needs. luke could’ve sworn he felt raindrops and thunder every now and then, hoping it wasn’t poseidon angry at him or something. 

luke tossed and turned in bed, the thought of you still fresh in his mind. you never left his mind, all he thought about was you. he slipped out of his bunk, then out a window to find a spot to burn an offering – not to his father, but yours. he lit a match, putting in into his tin can then burning away a piece of bread he had wanted to finish off in the morning which he’d miss most.

he watched the bread burn, tossing it into the small tin can. he fiddled with the drawstring of his hoodie, thinking of what he’d like to say as a prayer to your father.

“hi mr poseidon. i am luke castellan. son of.. hermes. i.. i don’t know how to explain this.”

he fumbled with his words, his mind incapable of configuring sentences he would’ve formerly said to the poseidon. it was messing with his brain. 

“i like your daughter. and i know that, you’d want her to have a guy good enough for her. i may not be that guy but.. i was hoping.. am i saying that right? uh.. i’m seeking for your blessing to, give me a shot?”

“i want to be that guy for her. i’ll take care of your daughter with my life, i’ll be there for her when no one else can. i promise, sir. i’ll love her, comfort her, take her side no matter what…”

he gulped, the flame dancing as he spoke. he wasn’t sure if poseidon would hear into his concerns, but it was worth trying. he hesitated to seal his promise, but he loved you. he’d do anything for you.

“sir, i’ll take good care of her. i promise.”

it almost sounded too desperate. luke blew out the flame, heading back to his cabin to not get caught by harpies. his heartfelt confession made his burden slightly lighter, actually being able to sleep this time.

"luke castellan, son of hermes. i've heard your prayer."

huh? who was that? luke opened his eyes, seeing the god of the seas in front of him. he swallowed the lump in his throat, bowing down only to feel poseidon's hand on his shoulder.

"will you keep to your promise? everything you said?"

luke glanced up at the god, nodding. yes. everything he said in his prayer. he'd keep to his promise. poseidon was staring him down, luke slightly intimidated by the death glare the god was giving him. the god's eyes reminded him of your eyes, every wave reflected in them.

"yes, sir. i will keep to my promise."

"how will i know for sure?"

huh? luke thought he'd made it clear with his intentions. but then he remembered – poseidon would deny him. poseidon would've never cared what luke had said in prayer, poseidon already deemed him unfit (like any other man) to date his daughter.

"but si–"

"you already know what i'm going to say, luke castellan."

"sir plea–"

luke woke up sweating. he looked around as he caught his breath, was that real? or was that all a dream? did poseidon really visit him in his dream? his chest hurt. his chest ached. his chest felt it was burning. for all he knew, he might've just lost his chance to love you. he didn't know if he could leave his cabin when morning came, he just wanted to disappear.

[gilverrwrites]

Best friends to lovers, but it's Dick Grayson.

≈1.3K words, CWs: F!Reader, cunnilingus, dirty talk. Pet-names: Princess, baby girl, pretty girl. Rating: 18+ MINOR DNI

Your best friend Dick Grayson has no boundaries.

He helps himself to your food, swapping and changing dumplings for noodles, carrots for celery, dips his fries in your milkshake, without even asking.  

He leaves his dirty clothes in your washing hamper, ‘borrows’ your lotions, and leaves his streaming services logged in on all your devices. In the winter he puts his cold hands under your shirt, stealing your warmth, and laughs when you flinch. “But you’re so hot!” He whines, hugging you tighter, “Let me hold you a while longer, please.”

In the summer he struts around your apartment, shirtless and sheening with sweat, eating your ice cream, pumping up the AC so he and Haley can chill out post-run. Not that you mind, it’s just that ‘oh, no, he’s my best friend’ is a hard sell when you bring dates home.

At random hours of the early morning, he wakes you up by crawling into bed with you, clings to the over-sized shirt you're sleeping in that is clearly his and makes fun of your tattered old underwear. “They’re comfy!” “They’re… something...” He trails off, all dreamy and quiet, refusing to expand before falling asleep, and is gone by the time you wake up.  

Your best friend Dick Grayson brings you gifts from all over the world. Chocolates from that one mom-and-pop you once mentioned in Keystone, jewellery, and perfume he probably paid way too much for from market vendors in cities like Paris and Istanbul, risqué pieces of underwear from Milan.

On late nights, he rests his head on your tummy, settled between your thighs as you watch your favourite film series for the nth time, smiling to himself as you babble on about your favourite scenes, about facts he already knows because you already told him, but he wants to hear you say it again anyway. When you start falling asleep on the couch, he lifts you, bridal style with ease, and carries you to the bedroom. “Come on then princess, let’s get you to bed.” “I can do it myself.” “You can’t even keep your eyes open, let me.”

He brushes stray pieces of hair out of your face when you’re too engrossed in something to do it yourself, when your hands are too full to reach, or when he wants to get a better look at you, just because he loves looking at your face.

“Um, what are you doing?” He nonchalantly hooks his finger into the waistband of your trousers, disappointed when he gets a not-too-subtle peek at neither your endearing threadbare usuals, nor the lacey Italian ones he’d bought for you.

Your best friend Dick Grayson flirts with you blatant and publicly;

“The red or the blue?” “Neither.” “I have to wear something!” “I’d love to see you wearing nothing.” “Wear the blue, always the blue.” Jason would never let it go otherwise.   “What do you want?” “You.” “I meant to eat.” “Same answer.” “I could never be you.” “What? Why?” “Must be tiring, being that cute.”

He texts you when you’re not together. “Good morning pretty girl” “saw this and thought of you.” “What are you wearing?”

One day you text back a picture, a mirror selfie from behind, your skirt hiked up, showing off the tiny navy-blue thong and he doesn’t text back. You worry that you’ve taken it too far, overstepped a line. 

Until your best friend Dick Grayson is waiting for you when you arrive home, sporting a nasty black eye and a smile the size of titan tower. In actuality, that image was exactly what he’d been hoping for every time he messaged. That image had been ingrained in his mind since you sent it, and it was one thousand times better than he’d imagined. That image was his hook, time to reel you in.

“Sorry I didn’t text back, I was speechless. No really, I got this” he points to the purple bruise forming around his eye “because I was distracted, thinking about you.”

“It’s cool, you didn’t have to say anything.” You lie. “Not like you haven’t seen it all before.” 

“Can I see it again?”

In the middle of your cramped kitchen, your best friend Dick Grayson lifts your skirt above your waist and drops to his knees, brazenly eying your folds. On request, you take the skirt from his hands, holding it up, exposing yourself as you do a little twirl for him, letting him see the full picture. 

When he lands a playful smack on your ass-cheek he grins, thrilled by the playfully petulant look you fire at him over your shoulder. When he runs a finger over your clothed slit, he’s even more delighted by the way your body shivers, by the hint of wetness he can feel seeping through the thin piece of fabric.   

You don’t stop him when he hooks a finger in the crotch, pulling the obstructing lace to the side, or when he runs his fingers through your now exposed lips. Deft fingers tease you, ghosting over your clit with no real fiction, making your pussy clench around nothing. 

“Want something?” The sight of him at your feet, watching you through defiant eyes has you weak.  

“Yes, touch me.” The sight of you, spread and writhing has him near feral, but he wants something more. 

“I’m already touching you, Princess.” He laughs, his warm breath against your slick tingles. If his breath is enough to make you quiver, he can’t wait to find out what his tongue will do to you. “Ask for something else. Nicely.”

You’re not sure exactly what he wants you to say, so you stammer the first words that come to mind; “Please Dick, stop teasing. Just do whatever you want to do, I want it too.” 

It’s enough. 

Your best friend Dick Grayson lifts you by your knees, setting you on the counter and securing your thighs over his shoulders as he descends on your folds. He’s messy and desperate, unable to get enough of your sweetness, darting his tongue in every direction until he finds the select few motions that have your fingers curling in his hair, have you panting his name between loose lips.

When you start to roll your hips, using his mouth for your own pleasure he can’t help but moan, the reverb sending further vibrations through your body that has your toes curling. He’s rock hard, itching to palm his cock, to grind it against the closest surface, but that’s an afterthought. He won’t get off until he’s lapped up your climax at least once. 

“Are you gonna cum for me?” His words are slurred, muffled between your legs, unwilling to pull away long enough to get his words out cohesively. “I want you to cum all over my face, okay baby girl?”

If he wasn’t already salivating against you, Dick’s mouth would water at the sight of you. Your body begins to jerk, your back arching, head thrown back as your orgasm hits you, his firm hands tighten around your legs, locking your lower body in place until all your tension is gone, and his face is soaked with your fluids. 

As you come down from your high, he savours the flavour, occasionally licking up stray droplets from your skin. He admires the way you look, head lolled to the side, eyes static under heavy lids, jaw slack, until it’s too much, until he needs to see you high on his doing once more. Without warning he lifts you. The collar of his shirt is damp, his cheeks are flushed, his hair a mess.

“Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable for round two.” Your best friend Dick Grayson says as he cradles your body in his arms. 

[sapphicmsmarvel]

azriel: mr loverboy

angst + fluff 

“boy you keep on blowing my mind, caught up in my emotions.” 

song: mr loverboy by little mix

Azriel always treated you kindly when you were just friends. But once that mating bond snapped, oh boy that’s where everything changed. 

You didn’t think it was possible that Azriel could get sweeter than he already was but he quickly proved you wrong. 

If he knew you had a bad day, he’d show up with your favorite flowers, candy or a new book. He always held doors open for you, made you walk on the side of a street that was least hazardous. Always listened to you, held you. 

You made sure to return that in tenfold. 

Because of past relationships, you kind of expected to see your partner have wandering eyes but as long as they came home with you, you always felt like you didn’t have a right to be upset. At least, that’s what they told you. But Azriel’s eyes never strayed from yours. He hugged his family but he held you differently. As if he wanted every part of your body constantly being pressed against his. 

However, if someone randomly came up touching him, he would either flatly look at them disgusted or politely decline depending on the social situation. He didn’t like hurting other people's feelings but he knew your scent was on him as well as his whole ass wedding ring. 

You and the Inner Circle were at a party in the Summer Court. Tarquin and his newly wedded mate had thrown a lovely gathering. Tarquin even temporarily lifted the ban on Cassian. As long as he didn’t go anywhere alone. 

You were too used to seeing multiple people throw themselves on your husband. But he didn’t even look at them. He kept telling them no and they just wouldn’t listen. 

But this night, a night of love and celebration, you watched one girl just push it a bit too far. You could see your mate trying to politely turn her down and not cause a scene that would distract from the newly wedded couple. 

So you did what anyone else would do. 

Walked your sexy ass over and plopped down on his lap. Put his face in your hands and gave him a big ole kiss. You ignored the snickers from his brothers and the gasps from the girl and just focused on him. He kissed you back eagerly. His hands coming up behind your back and holding you. 

You two pulled away, he smiled, a glimmer of affection and pure warmth was sent down the bond. “What was that for?” 

You smiled, “I just wanted to.” You didn’t wanna admit it was jealousy. However, your husband wasn’t stupid. He smiled knowingly and you rolled your eyes. You turned towards the girl and she had already left. 

Satisfied, you turned towards where Azriel was facing. You saw the Inner Circle giving you shit-eating looks. You did something no one would dare do to their High Lady however you got special privilege. “Shut the fuck up.” You murmured. She threw her beautiful head back and laughed. She knew all too well how you felt about Azriel’s admirers. She felt the same about Rhysand’s. Nesta tipped her glass to you, she also knew what it was like fighting off the admirers. 

You leaned back against the warmth of your mate. A welcome contrast to the cool summer breeze on the patio. 

After a bit more dancing, Nesta and Cassian retired to bed, Rhysand and Feyre quickly following. After a quick goodbye to the happy couple, you and Azriel began a walk by the beach. 

“So do you prefer the sandy beaches or the rocky beaches of the Night Court?” Azriel asked you. 

“Honestly, I’ve always hated sand. Blegh, the herpes of nature.” You shuddered. 

He let out a loud, unguarded laugh and you found it the most beautiful sound. Usually, after a comment like that, your past partners would scold you. 

But Azriel embraces you. He held your hand even tighter. 

“But we wouldn’t be able to be barefoot in the Night Court.” He argued. “Yes, but we also don’t know what germs are touching our naked feet. I’d rather have protection. What if you step on glass in sand?” You said back. 

He gave you a pensive thought. “It seems we agree to disagree.” 

“You like the sand?” you asked softly. You’d put up with it for him. You’d put up a lot for this man.

“I don’t know what it is. It just feels nice.”

“Then we should look into a vacation rental here.” You squeezed his hand. 

“No, no you hate-”

“Hey, I hate sand but I can put up with it if it means I get to wake up to your sexy naked body in the sun.” You gave an overdramatic shiver. “Lord, they’re gonna have to put me in church for the thoughts I just had about you.” 

He let out another laugh, you wanted to preserve it in a jar and just open it to hear it. “Besides, a vacation rental would be nice. Just imagine,” You held your hand out in front of you as if to paint a scene. “A nice cabana, windows and doors wide open, curtains blowing in with the breeze. Fresh fruit and seafood waiting for us. The smell of sex and ocean water. A goddamn wet dream.” 

But when you turned your head, you just saw him gazing at you full of love. “I’m looking at the only dream I’ll ever need right now.” 

Your blush could’ve rivaled the earlier sunset. “Sap.” 

“You love it.” “More than anything.” You said, all traces of joking gone. 

You somehow were able to hold him tighter as you two continued walking 

“Thank you for earlier by the way.” You whispered. 

He looked confused, “what?”

“You didn’t entertain that random girl. I appreciated it.”

“You…you don't need to thank me for not looking at other people?” He was even more confused. “You’re my mate. My wife. You come first, always and forever, baby.” He brought your interlocked hands up to his lips to kiss your hand. 

You got a bit embarrassed.  “I’ve never been anyone's first choice, so it’s kind of crazy to me that I’m yours.” You admitted. 

His heart slowly broke that you had never had someone treat you like this. He pulled you both to a stop. “You’ll always be my number one. Even above the Night Court. Above it all.”

“I’d never ask you to put me above your job, Az.”

“I know, hence why you’re put above it.” He pulled you in to kiss your forehead. “You deserve the best, better than me, I don't know how the Mother paired-“

“Shut up,” You snapped with no real bite. “You’re wonderful Az, I’ll always tell you that.”

He conceded, “we’re perfect together.”

“Fuck yeah we are.” You said bringing him in for a kiss. 

[corroded-hellfire]

Love Comes Walking In - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie didn’t want to go to prom, until he wanted to go with Chrissy. You wanted to go to prom, but not if Eddie is going to go with Chrissy. But above everything, you want Eddie to be happy.

Note: this whole thing mostly came about because I wanted to write the one scene with Dustin. You’ll know the one.

Words: 6k

Eddie teasing you was nothing new. His lighthearted jabs about your skirt making you look preppy or having sleepy eye boogers first thing in the morning roll off your back, occasionally even making you laugh along. But when he teases you about wanting to go to prom, that gets under your skin. 

Wanting one special night to wear a pretty gown with glowing makeup and neatly styled hair didn’t sound stupid to you. To your best friend, it seemed like torture. The whole school year Eddie would rag on you about buying into the whole conformist commercialism that you thought of as a rite of passage. That makes it even worse when he suddenly changes his tune just a week before the dance. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” Jeff complains. 

Eddie rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Just because I changed my mind doesn’t mean I’m ridiculous,” he argues.

“You changed your mind because of a girl!” Gareth shouts. 

Jabbing your green beans with your plastic fork, you stay silent as the boys bicker back and forth. Part of you was also afraid to open your mouth, unsure of what would come out.

“You say that like I’d go to prom with any girl,” Eddie snaps. “I’m not saying I’m going, I’m saying I would go with Chrissy.”

The fork is clutched so hard in your hand that you think it’s going to snap in half. 

“What’s wrong with wanting to go with anyone?” Jeff asks.

Eddie waves a dismissive hand at him and wrinkles his face up in distaste, not bothering to give a verbal response. 

“Hypocrite,” you mumble under your breath.

“I am not.” Eddie stares at you and your head jerks up in surprise that he heard you. 

“Yes, you are,” you say. “You’ve made fun of me all year for wanting to go and now because you have a crush, it’s different? Bullshit.”

“I changed my mind,” Eddie reiterates. 

“Fine,” you say with a huff. It’s not worth arguing with him over. 

“Maybe you should apologize,” Dustin suggests softly.

“What?” Eddie asks.

“Come on, you have been on her ass about it all year,” Dustin says. 

“Thanks, Dustin,” you say. “But it’s fine.”

Eddie opens his mouth, but you don’t give him a chance to speak. Chair legs scraping against the floor, you push your seat back and stand up from the table. The guys all watch as you leave, dumping your tray in the trash before stalking out of the cafeteria. 

Arguments with Eddie rarely happened. They’re so rare that neither of you know how to react when you next see each other. Are you still fighting? Has it been long enough where you both can pretend like nothing ever happened? There’s no chance to talk to one another in your shared algebra class the next day, so it wasn’t until lunch that you really came face to face. Eddie’s at the table before you, and you plop down in your usual seat next to him. 

“We cool?” Eddie asks as you’re in the middle of lifting a forkful of mac and cheese to your open mouth. 

“Uh, yeah,” you say, eyeing him over your full fork. “I guess.” 

“Good.” He slouches down in his seat, as if he can relax now that he knows you’re on good terms. “Oh shit, here I got you something.” Eddie reaches into his metal lunchbox and pulls out a Three Musketeers bar. “Band kids are selling candy, so I bought your favorite for you. Hide it before Henderson gets here or he’ll steal it.”

“Thanks,” you say with a grin. This was exactly the reason why your feelings for Eddie would never go away. Just when he pisses you off to the point where you swear you’re never going to sit with him at lunch again, he turns around and does something sweet and thoughtful without expecting anything in return. 

“Breaking news, losers,” Gareth says as he drops his tray on the table. “I have a prom date.”

“Well shit, I guess hell has frozen over,” Mike says as he and Dustin join the rest of you. 

“You’re not a senior,” Jeff points out.

“No, but my date is.” Gareth’s smirk is enough to earn an eye roll from both you and Eddie. 

“Who’s that desperate?” 

Gareth throws a French fry at you - which you dodge - before he answers. 

“Calling Kel desperate?” 

“What?” you almost screech. “How are you going with one of the sweetest girls at school?”

“I’m super cool,” he says, making the rest of you bust out in laughter. 

“But seriously,” Jeff says.

“You’re all assholes,” Gareth says before digging into his food. “At least I have a date.” 

Eddie goes to reply, but you’re afraid of what he’s going to say, so you scoop up your backpack and excuse yourself to the bathroom. Once you step out of the cafeteria, you roll out your neck and shoulders, trying not to think of Eddie back in there talking about prom with the guys. You push the girl’s bathroom door open and breathe a sigh of relief when you’re the only one in there. Dropping your bag on the floor between your feet, you lean forward on one of the sinks and look at yourself in the mirror. A few deep breaths later, you feel your body relax. It’s short lived, however, when the door squeaks open on old hinges and two cheerleaders step in. 

You feel bad for the guttural reaction you have to seeing Chrissy’s blonde ponytail swinging behind you in the mirror. She is a complete sweetheart who wouldn’t hurt a fly, but the jealous green-eyed monster rears its ugly head and your fingers dig into the cool porcelain. 

“It really sucks,” the other cheerleader says to Chrissy. You know you’ve seen her around, but you don’t know her name. Both cheerleaders park at the sinks next to you to touch up their makeup. Chrissy throws you a bright smile and a friendly wave before taking her lip gloss out and turning back towards her friend. 

“I know,” Chrissy says. “I knew we were going to break up, but I was hoping for it to be after prom. How am I supposed to find a new date in a week?”

“I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that,” her friend assures her.

“I don’t know,” Chrissy says with a sigh. “Everyone probably has their dates by now.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Your pulse is raging in your ears and sweat is starting to make your hands slip against the sink. The internal debate rages inside of you. Do you let your jealousy get in the way of something that will make Eddie happy? It would throw away any shot you had of going to prom with Eddie yourself - but you know that was a long shot anyway. 

Still undecided, you take a step back from the sink, and your backpack falls over. You bend down to pick it up and the Three Musketeer bar falls out. It feels like your gaze should melt the chocolate that’s laying before you. Damn Eddie and his thoughtfulness at buying you the stupid candy. You toss it back in your bag, wincing as you prepare self-destruction. 

“Hey, Chrissy,” you say.

She turns to you with a smile, putting the top back on her lip gloss.

“Hey! What’s up?”

“I, uh, didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” you say as you slide your backpack on. You can’t manage to look her in the eyes as you speak. “But I know someone who doesn’t have a date yet.”

“You do?” She perks up in interest and the souring of your stomach almost keeps you from going further. 

“Yeah.” It sounds painful coming out of your mouth and you hope neither cheerleader notices. “Um, Eddie? Eddie Munson.”

“Really?” her friend asks. She crosses her arms over her chest and juts a hip out. You’re two seconds away from smacking the snotty look off her face when Chrissy speaks up.

“Eddie is great,” Chrissy says, looking over her shoulder at her friend before looking back at you. “Yeah, that sounds nice. Think he’ll say yes if I ask him?”

“I do.” Those two words were almost the hardest to get out. It was killing you how much of an understatement it was. 

“Okay!” The eagerness in her voice makes you want to cry. There’s no way you’ll be able to face Eddie back in there. 

“You can, um, ask him now if you want,” you say with a shrug. With a deep breath, you head towards the bathroom door. You stop halfway out the door and turn back around. “Oh, if Eddie asks,” you say, doubting he would because he’d be too consumed by the fact that his dreams were coming true, “can you just tell him I wasn’t feeling well and left?”

“No problem.” Her brow furrows in concern and she takes a step towards you. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” It’s the biggest lie you’ve told in a while. “Cramps.” You put your hand to your lower abdomen and Chrissy gives you a sympathetic nod.

“Feel better!”

Without answering her, you walk out of the bathroom and down the hall, to the school exit. As soon as you slide into your car, the tears start. They start pouring so heavily and your hands shake so badly that you can’t put your key in the ignition. Momentarily giving up, you drop the keys in your lap and drop your head down to the steering wheel. 

Giving yourself enough time to get the worst of it out, you pull back and use your sleeves to wipe down your face. With a deep breath, you close your eyes and try to center yourself. After a few breaths in and out, in and out, you’re able to get the keys in the ignition on the first try. You pull your car out of the parking lot and head towards your house. The conversation you had with Chrissy keeps going through your head and you can’t keep from picturing the euphoric look that will be on Eddie’s face when she asks him. The saving grace you’re holding on to is the fact that Chrissy immediately defended Eddie to her friend. There aren’t many people in the school who would do that. 

Luckily, no one is home when you get to your house and you’re able to go inside and sulk in peace in your bed. More tears leak out as you hug your pillow to your chest. You must end up falling asleep because the persistent ringing of your doorbell jolts you awake sometime later. Heart racing from the adrenaline, you pull yourself out of bed and drag yourself to the front door. 

Eddie’s standing on the other side and it’s the first time his smile has ever broken your heart. 

“You are the best!” He swoops into your house and wraps you up in his arms. “Oh shit, sorry. I forgot, Chrissy said you’re having some girl pains.”

Right. 

“They’re better now that I’ve rested,” you say. “And you don’t have to thank me. Just doing what a good friend would do, right?”

“The best friend in the world!” He takes your head in his hands and presses a loud smacking kiss to your forehead. His happiness is infectious and despite your foul mood, a small smile curls on your mouth. 

“Now,” he says, taking both of his hands in yours. “We have to find a date for you.”

“Oh.” Your face drops and you shake your head. “I’m not going to go.”

It hadn’t occurred to you that Eddie would still be thinking about how you wanted to attend prom. The idea of his own perfect date should’ve been occupying his whole brain, but damn Eddie and his thoughtfulness. 

“What?” Eddie immediately frowns and it tugs at your heart. It tempts you to tell him you’ll go, but the mental image of Eddie dressed up and dancing with a flawless-as-usual Chrissy makes you bite your tongue. 

“You were right before,” you tell him. “It’s dumb and there’s shitty music. Plus, the dresses are way too expensive.” The dress you planned on wearing was already in your closet, but Eddie didn’t need to know that. 

“Are you sure?” Eddie dips his head down to meet your eyes. He raises an eyebrow at you questioningly. 

“Yeah,” you tell him. 

“I’m going to miss you there,” he says, and you almost slip up and laugh out loud at his statement. 

“Oh please, you’ll be having way too much fun to notice I’m not there.” 

“Like that could happen,” Eddie says with a skeptical look. 

You don’t bother arguing with him, even though you know he’s wrong. 

On your way to the cafeteria the next day, you can’t bring yourself to walk in. You know if you do then you’re just going to be hearing about plans for prom and you don’t trust yourself not to break down in tears in front of everyone. There was no way you could avoid the guys entirely until prom, but you couldn’t face them today. Eddie doesn’t want to be with you. He wants to be with Chrissy. And you have to make yourself seem okay with that somehow. Just not today. 

There’s a vending machine on the way to the gym, so you pick up a bag of crackers and a bottle of coke. The gymnasium is empty, so you take a seat on the bottom row of bleachers and start to eat your sad little lunch. It’s easy to let your mind wander, so you try to redirect it away from where it wants to go. Usual calming fantasies revolve around Eddie in some way, but that’s out of the question right now. 

Your mind can’t stray far from Eddie though, so you let your mind divulge in a little dark fantasy as you eat. What would happen if you just ran away? What would happen if you just threw some clothes in a bag and bolted? You would never actually do it, but imagining Eddie being sad over you leaving brings you a sick sort of comfort. Because he would miss you. You know he loves you, it’s just not in the same way that you wish. 

As you crumble up your wrapper in your hand, the gym door opens and a familiar hat over tousled curls walks in. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at you, as he walks your way with his hands in his pockets. Sneakers squeak across the shiny floor and come to a sudden halt as he stops in front of you. 

Dustin dips his chin down and raises his eyes to look at you. He takes one hand out of his pocket and holds it out to you.

“Yes?” you ask, looking between his eyes and his hand. 

“I know what you did for Eddie,” he says. “We all know. Except for him, he’s an idiot. But it really was a nice thing to do. I never could’ve done it.”

“Thanks,” you say skeptically, unsure of where he was going with this. 

“He told us you said you don’t want to go to prom. I know that’s bullshit. So,” he says, bringing his hand back and extending it to you again, “I am asking you if I may take you to the prom.”

Your eyes immediately well with tears as you look up at the boy in front of you. Dustin was always one of the sweetest people you knew, but this was taking it to a whole other level. 

“Oh, Dustin,” you say. You take his hand and tug his arm until he’s sitting on the bleacher next to you. “That is the sweetest offer I’ve gotten in my entire life. But I can’t go to prom.”

Dustin sighs and nods his head.

“Can’t see them together?” he asks.

“Correct.”

He wraps his arm around you, and you rest your head on his shoulder.

“So, everyone knows, huh?” you ask. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you stare at Eddie a lot.”

The laughter that bubbles out of you is so unexpected that you bring your hand up to cover your mouth. 

“I know,” you admit. “I do.”

“And you look at him differently than you look at anyone else,” he says. 

“Like he’s an idiot?” you ask and Dustin chuckles. 

“No, I think we all look at him that way.”

You sigh and pick your head up from Dustin’s shoulder. You pat his arm and give him a grateful smile.

“Dustin Henderson, you are the best. And if I were going to go to the prom with anybody at all, it would be you.” 

“Well, when I go to my senior prom, I hope I go with someone half as awesome as you.”

That makes the tears spill over and you hastily wipe them off your cheeks. 

“God, I love you.” You throw your arms around his neck and give him the tightest hug you’ve given anyone in a while. He chuckles as he hugs you back.

“Who doesn’t?”

The night of prom comes, and you stand in your kitchen, alone in the house and in your comfiest sweats, making cookie dough. Screw warnings of not eating raw eggs, you were making this dough to eat, not cook. The last few days at school you went back to eat lunch with the guys but used a fake sore throat as an excuse for staying quiet and distant. You really only needed to fool Eddie though, since the other guys knew what was really going on with you. 

You take the bowl of cookie dough into the living room and set it down as you flip through the VHS tapes you’d rented earlier in the day. Steve had known about you not going to prom because, of course he did, Dustin tells him everything. You assured him it wasn’t a big deal, just wanting to get out with your movies. 

Settling on The Outsiders because you could stare at Rob Lowe all day, you pop the tape in and settle on the couch with your favorite blankets and your bowl of cookie dough. You can only eat about a quarter of the dough before your stomach has had enough. It sits on the table in front of you as you watch the rest of the movie. It’s not even eleven by the time the movie’s over but you don’t feel up to sitting through another one. You take the bowl of cookie dough back into the kitchen and stick it in the refrigerator. Thoughts of what’s happening at the prom have been trying to jam their way into your brain all night, but without the movie to distract you, those thoughts finally break in. Is there a slow song playing right now? Are Eddie’s hands on her hips or is one wrapped around her back while the other holds her hand? Is he having a good time? Are they playing any music that he likes? What did he end up wearing? You know you’ll end up seeing pictures but you’re not looking forward to seeing how pristine Chrissy is all dolled up when she’s naturally so beautiful on her own. Right now, you can imagine she’s wearing a garbage bag and her hair is all rolled up in curlers and her makeup looks like a clown’s. But once you see pictures, that illusion you’ve clung to will burst like a bubble in your heart. 

You press the heels of your palms to your eyes to try and stop the impending tears from falling. A few deep breaths and you get it under control. This heartbreak shit sucks. 

Before heading up to your room, you grab a water bottle from the fridge and your blanket off the couch. On your nightstand is a small radio and you click it on so you won’t be alone in silence with just your thoughts for company. The sheets feel cold and crisp as you slide into them. Putting your blanket back on top of you, you curl up on your side and nuzzle your face into your pillow. The light’s still on in your room, but you didn’t feel like getting up to turn it off.

The dial on your radio must’ve gotten knocked at some point - which happened often as you fumbled with things on your nightstand constantly - because smooth jazz starts playing and you huff a laugh into your pillow. You weren’t moving to fix that, either. When your parents come home, if you’ve already fallen asleep, your mom will turn both the radio and light off for you. 

But the jazz is actually more soothing the longer it plays. It calms your frayed nerves and helps you start to doze off, body finally giving in to the exhaustion you’ve been feeling from all the stress lately. 

In your half-asleep state, you hear your parents come home. They’re not exactly quiet walking around downstairs, but they also probably didn’t expect you to be sleeping this early. The thudding of your mom’s heels coming up the stairs echoes in the quiet hallway, drifting into you even over the radio. The footsteps keep coming towards your room and you’re looking forward to the sweet darkness you’ve craved when your mom gets to your room. But the lights don’t turn off. Instead, the bed dips next to you and you feel someone lay down beside you. 

She means well, you know, because she knew that you were bummed to miss prom, even if she didn’t know why. But the last thing you wanted right now was to have her try and talk to you about how you’re feeling. You know you’ll lose it and end up crying yet again. She stays quiet beside you though and you’re thankful for it. 

“I know you’re not asleep.”

The deep voice startles you and your eyes snap open. Eddie’s laying down on his side, facing you, head propped up on his arm. He’s smiling at you. It’s the first thing you notice before your eyes travel down, taking in the suit he’s wearing. Partially a suit, anyway. He’s wearing nice black slacks, which you didn’t even know he owned, with a maroon button up shirt. No jacket, but you’re not sure if he had one on earlier or not. He’s still your Eddie though, because he has his pick necklace on and his many rings adorning his fingers. 

“Look at you.” Your voice sounds a bit froggy between almost being asleep and all the crying you’ve done. “Not a stitch of denim in sight.”

Eddie chuckles. It sounds so nice. He leans over and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask.

“Came by to see my best girl,” he says. Maybe he still says it out of habit, but you’re pretty sure you’ll be losing that title shortly. 

“But prom,” you say, whinier than you intended to. 

“It’s over,” he says.

You frown and crane your neck to see the clock on your dresser. The neon green tells you that it’s just after one in the morning. You must’ve dozed longer than you thought.

“How was it?” you ask, bracing yourself for the answer. 

“Pretty much how I expected it to be.”

“Oh yeah?” The fake smile on your face is starting to feel second nature, and you hate it. “Everything you’d hoped?”

“No,” he says with a laugh. He shakes his head and twirls the ring on one of his middle fingers with his thumb. “I was right the first time. Shitty music. Horrible punch - which Principal Higgins was guarding like he was trying to keep the Huns from invading China. People at our school can’t dance for shit, myself included. And to top it all off, my favorite person wasn’t there.”

Your brow scrunches together and you sit up in bed.

“She stood you up?” 

“What?” Eddie asks. When he realizes what you mean, he closes his eyes and smiles. “No, you dork. I meant you. You weren’t there.”

“Me?” you ask. The skepticism in your voice cuts right to Eddie’s heart. He frowns and scoots forward on the bed so he can rest his hand on your hip. 

“Yes, you. You’re doubting that you’re my favorite person?”

“Well, kind of,” you say quietly. 

“Why?” he asks, and his frown makes your heart plummet into your stomach. 

“It’s just, you were so excited to go with Chrissy.”

“I was,” he admits. “But just because I had a crush on a girl doesn’t mean that you’re not still my number one.”

Had. The one word sticks in your mind and you know there are other things you should say, better things, but the question is burning your tongue so it has to come out.

“Had a crush?” you ask. 

Eddie nods and rubs his thumb over your hip bone.

“Turns out a lot of crushes can go away quickly if you actually spend time with the person.”

“Did she say something? Do something?” you ask.

“No,” he says simply. “She’s great. There was just nothing to talk about after the first twenty minutes or so. She knows nothing about my interests, and I know nothing about hers.”

“Just didn’t click?” you ask.

“Yeah, exactly,” he says. He’s silent for a moment, mouth pursed in thought. “This is a horrible analogy, but it’s what came to mind. It’s like when a present is sitting there in front of you, and it’s wrapped beautifully. Ribbons and bows and all that jazz. You just stare at it and want it, imagining what kind of fun thing could be inside. Then, you finally get it, you can hold it in your hands. You open it and it’s a new shirt. It’s nice, but not what you were expecting. You don’t dislike the shirt, it’s just not the present you wanted.” 

“Look at you with the metaphors,” you say with a smirk. “Senior English three times and you’re a full-on scholar now.”

He rolls his eyes at you and playfully squeezes the skin at your hip.

“I was being serious,” he says.

“I know. And I get it. You kissed a frog who didn’t turn into a princess.”

“And you thought I had an odd way of putting it,” Eddie says with a laugh. “But I didn’t even kiss her before I knew there was nothing there. Once the excitement wore off it was pretty boring, actually.” 

“I’m sorry it wasn’t what you wanted,” you tell him honestly. 

“I’ve always known the prom itself would suck. Just thought it might be fun with the right date. And it might’ve been, but I didn’t have that.” He takes a deep breath and looks into your eyes. “I should’ve brought you.”

The tears are coming but you force them to hold their position. It’s hard not to yell at him that that’s what you’ve wanted all along. But there’s no point. Any begging or pleading before the prom wouldn’t have gotten him to agree to take you. So, instead of living in the ‘if you realized this sooner I could have gotten to go to my prom’, you let it go by and just appreciate the fact that he wishes he had gone with you instead of Chrissy. 

“But I’ve had an idea,” Eddie says as he pushes himself off your bed. 

“And what’s that?”

“Well,” he says as he walks over to your closet. “First things first, I’ve got to see what we’re working with here.” 

“Why?” You scoot down to the foot of the bed to see what he’s doing more clearly. He’s going through your clothes, inspecting every piece, and deeming them unfit for whatever scheme he’s cooked up in his brain. 

“You’ll see. Wait. Are you kidding me?” He reaches into the back of your closet and pulls out the gold dress that you had bought for prom. “You told me you didn’t get a dress!”

“How do you know I haven’t had that dress for a while?” But your blush won’t let you get away with the lie.

“Well for starters, the tag is still on it.” He brandishes it to you and you huff.

“Okay, yeah, yeah, I had a dress. But I didn’t want to go, and I didn’t think you’d end up riling through my closet anyway.” 

“Put it on,” he says, tossing its hanger into your lap.

“I’m sorry, what?” The dress tries to slide from your lap to the floor, so you pull it up and lay it down on the bed next to you.”

“Put it on,” he says slower this time, as if that should clear up everything. 

“Why?” 

“Because I want to dance with you,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, I’d dance with you in your sweats, but I thought you might want to get all dolled up like me.” He smirks and runs his hands down the buttons of his maroon shirt. 

“You want to dance with me?” Maybe you’re still asleep and this is all a dream. 

“Yeah.” Again, he says it as if it’s something you do every day. His casual tone is making you think you’re the one who’s not making sense. 

“Okay,” you say as you stand. “I guess I’ll go change.”

“This is your room,” Eddie says, heading to the door. “Change here, I’ll wait out here.” He walks into the hallway, closing your bedroom door behind him. 

You slip the sweatpants down your legs and tug the sweatshirt off over your head. The single strapless bra you own is at the bottom of the drawer and you have to dig your way down to find it. The gold dress has a halter neckline so there’s no way you could wear a regular bra underneath. You squeeze the bra on, and even change your panties from blue ones with butterflies on it, to one of the few lace ones you own. 

The dress unzips easily and glides down your body as you get situated. You can’t zip it yourself, but Eddie can do that for you. Most of the makeup you own is in the bathroom, but you can make do with the little bit sitting over on your dresser. Looking in the mirror, you do a soft layer of makeup and then inspect your hair. It strikes you as funny when you see yourself in a golden dress with makeup on, but total bedhead up on top. You yank the scrunchie out of your hair and shake your head to toss your hair around. It looks better but not great. Your eyes land on a silver hair clip dotted with pearls and you reach up to tuck some of your hair back and secure it with the pin. There. The look is done. 

When you open your bedroom door you expect Eddie to be waiting there but you don’t see him. You stick your head into the hall and look both ways but see no metal head. 

“Eddie?” you call.

“Coming!”

He jogs out of your dad’s office a few doors down, carrying a few sheets of paper. Eddie comes to a halt as he takes in your appearance. Heat blooms in your face as you watch Eddie scan every last detail of this ensemble. 

“You look gorgeous,” he says. It’s enough to make you pass out, but you somehow stay standing firm.

“Thank you,” you say. “You look very handsome. Did I tell you that when you first got here?”

“No,” he says with a chuckle. “Just a remark about me not wearing any denim.”

“Which is truly a miracle. But you do look handsome. Very handsome.”

He smiles and takes steps towards you, paper still in his hands.

“What’s this?” you ask.

“I’m not very good at origami, but I did my best to turn this sheet of paper into a corsage.”

Your heart leaps at his words and it’s another battle of wills with your tears when Eddie slips his improvised flower on your wrist. Some tears win the battle, and they trail down your face. Luckily, you were smart enough to apply waterproof makeup. 

“Eddie, this is…” you trail off, not having the words to express how you’re feeling. 

“You wanted prom, so I’m giving you prom.” He takes both of your hands in his and guides you back into your bedroom. He closes the door behind him with his foot, his eyes never leaving your face. 

“Can you zip me up?” you ask. He nods and you turn around. His hands against your back sends a shiver up your spine and goosebumps break out over your arms. You hear him chuckle and he trails the tips of his fingers over your shoulders as you turn back around.

“What’s with the smooth jazz?” Eddie can’t help but laugh at the saxophone solo coming in over the speakers. 

“I hit the dial again.”

“Well, let’s fix that.” He bends down and turns the dial to find a good station. The static goes in and out, some songs coming through in pieces, or sounding like they’re underwater. It finally lands on a clear station and Eddie grins in triumph. “Perfect. Love Comes Walking In.”

“You know I love Van Halen.”

Eddie stands up straight and takes the few steps over to you. He bows in classic dramatic Eddie fashion, and he comes back up with a frown on his face.

“You’re not wearing heels. Or shoes at all.”

“Eddie, I would’ve kicked them off the moment I got there anyway,” you tell him with a laugh. “Barefoot is fine.”

“Just checking. Want this to be an authentic impromptu prom for you.”

You giggle and Eddie reaches his hand out to you. You take it and he instantly pulls you in and holds you against his body. It would be a miracle if he couldn’t feel or hear your heart beating so fast it’s like someone is dribbling a basketball beneath your ribs. His right hand takes your left and he twines your fingers together. His other hand snakes around your waist until it settles warmly on your back. You place your other hand on his shoulder and smile up at him.

“This is already better than actual prom,” he says. “Good music. Perfect date.”

Red rises to your cheeks and you duck your head shyly. 

The pair of you sway to the beat of the song, bodies moving along with the rhythm. Eddie spins you and it makes you let out a giddy peal of laughter. He pulls you back into him and you wrap both arms around his neck. He places his hands firmly on your waist as you start to sway again. 

“Thank you,” you say.

“For what?”

“You brought all the best parts of prom to me. I didn’t have to suffer through the shitty parts. I’ve got my dress, my music, my favorite person. It’s perfect, Eddie.” 

“I’ll dance like this with you anytime,” he says. “All you have to do is ask.”

The way he’s looking at you stirs some butterflies up that have been dormant until this point. He’s never looked at you this way and you’re not sure what it is. You know every Eddie facial expression and what they mean, but this one is new. His face is soft, and his eyes are wide, as usual. The brown irises are twinkling and there’s the barest smile on the left side of his mouth. 

“What are you thinking about?” you ask. 

“You,” he says. No further explanation, which leads your mind to grasping for answers as usual. 

“What about me?”

“Just…you.”

“Okay, I take back what I said about being a scholar now. You’ve lost the ability to words,” you say and wrinkle up your nose playfully at him. He catches you by surprise, though, when he leans forward and presses a kiss to the very tip of your nose. 

The blush you had before was nothing to the one now gracing your features. Eddie chuckles when he sees it and leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. 

“Do you want to have another prom tomorrow?” he asks.

“What’s that entail? Dancing with you?”

“Yes.”

“Good music?”

“Of course.”

“Can I wear comfy clothes?”

“I’ll be wearing mine.”

“Hmm,” you hum, pretending to consider it. “Can we get food too?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I like the sound of that,” you say with a smirk.

“Is that a yes?” Eddie asks.

“Eddie, I’d have this kind of prom with you every single day.”

“Don’t tempt me, sweetheart.”

[mphoenix-7]

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 8: The Cabin: Day 4 (pt.1)

Summary: You try to talk to Soap about yesterday. Key word is try.

Word Count: 4,515

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, swearing, angst, strong language, arguing, mentions of sex, hurtful language

A/N: Another two parter! Enjoy!! Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog if you wish 🫶🏻 also, see the end of the chapter for Soap’s drawing

Masterlist | <- Previous | Next ->

Bitter Allies • Part 8

The next morning, the pain in your chest is still present. Your heart feels heavy, weighed down by confusion and a little regret. The dull ache between your legs is a lingering echo of Soap's rough touch that had split you in half. A constant reminder of last night. You feel raw, exposed, and the desire to talk to Soap about what happened is overwhelming now. As daunting as it seems, you know this conversation is unavoidable. It needs to happen sooner or later.

Pulling yourself upright in bed, you look to Soap’s side of the room and see that he’s gone. You hope for once that he’s around and hasn’t left for a morning run or anything. You don’t know if you can handle waiting for him to get back. Getting changed into the last fully clean pair of clothes you have, you go to look for the Scot.

As you walk into the kitchen, you’re naturally drawn to look out the window. Your heart leaps when you see him. He’d sitting by the same tree he had a couple days ago, looking out towards the water. Taking a deep breath, gathering up your courage, you exit the cabin. The morning air is cool against your skin, but it does little to soothe your nerves.

Each step you take towards him makes your heart beat faster, the anxiety building with every stride. You’re so nervous to talk to him, afraid of how this interaction might go. You had a pretty bad track record so far of turning civil conversations into heated arguments.

As you get closer, you come to realize he has one of his black books with him. It’s opened up, and it looks like he’s sketching something. His eyes dart from between the lake in front of him to his book, pausing between his strokes when he does.

He either doesn’t hear you or chooses not to acknowledge you until you’re about halfway to him. You can see him glance a little over his shoulder as you draw near, but he never fully turns his head to look at you. His gaze just goes back to his book. Even when you’re finally right next to him, he still doesn’t say anything or even look up at you.

“Can I sit with you for a bit?” You ask before you lose your courage and run back to the cabin.

Soap is silent for a couple seconds, and for a moment, you’re worried he’s not going to say anything to you. There’s a pang in your chest at that thought, but Soap finally answers after a moment.

“Sure.” He sighs, seeming to know exactly what you are here for. Then again, why else would you ever come to talk to him?

Slowly, you move to sit beside him. It’s peaceful outside, a stark contrast to how you’re feeling. Not really knowing how you want to start this conversation, you instead look at the sketch he’s currently working on.

“I didn’t know you liked to draw.” You say, watching as he carefully makes each line on the paper. He’s drawing the scene of the lake. Using one of his fingers, he smudges a line he’s just made, darkening his finger with the lead of his pencil.

“It helps pass the time. Takes my mind off stuff.” He shrugs, still offering his full attention to his drawing.

“It looks nice. You’re really good at drawing.”

And you’re being genuine. You’re surprised to say that Soap is really good at drawing. He’s about halfway through sketching the landscape, and it looks beautiful so far. Despite your compliment though, Soap sighs, taking his pencil off the drawing and finally looking at you.

“What do you want?” He asks, making you shy away slightly. You don’t want him thinking your compliment was just empty words.

“I was being serious. Your drawing is really nice. You’re really talented.”

Soap sighs again, glancing back down to his artwork, but not drawing anymore. “Thanks. But I know you’re not out here cause you want to watch me draw. So get to it.”

You’re silent for a long time, watching the side of his face. You were out here to talk to him about last night, but you were nervous. You wanted to ease into it, not just dive right in. Though with Soap outing you on your intentions, you don’t really have a choice now.

“I just wanted to talk to you about last night…” You say slowly.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He answers quickly, making you frown. Of course there was something to talk about. How could he say that?

“Soap, we… we had sex. How is that not something to talk about?”

“Lots of people have sex, States.” He shrugs. You begin to nervously pick at your nails.

“So it didn’t mean anything?” You find yourself asking.

You don’t know what you want his answer to be. You should want him to say it didn’t mean anything. It was just sex and nothing more. But a part of you doesn’t want him to say that. Maybe if it meant something then you wouldn’t regret it so much? Or maybe you really just wanted it to have meant something.

“Don’t you fucking dare do that.”

“Do what?” You frown.

“Don’t you start telling me this meant something to you. That you think this fixes anything between us.”

“It… it didn’t, I don’t. I mean, I’m just sorting through it- I don’t know.” You say quickly, caught off guard by what he said.

“Fucking Christ…” Soap mutters, burying his face into his hands as you begin to feel flustered.

“Can you just-! Just answer my question! So what we did last night didn’t mean anything?”

Soap groans, hitting his head against the back of the tree slightly. “Nope. It was just sex. Something to get rid of all the tension for a bit. That’s it.”

His answer hurts you a lot more than you expect. The sting of his words leaves you momentarily speechless, your mind racing to process his easy dismissal. “Ok.. well, good.” You find yourself saying, looking out across the waters. It’s silent for a few moments before Soap breaks it.

“Hey, by the way, you’re not going to get pregnant, are you? You are on birth control right?” He looks over to you, and you’re staring straight ahead, a blank expression on your face. His voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, no we’re fine. I’ve got a birth control implant.”

You weren’t on birth control for the birth control part of it. It was mostly to help with a hormone imbalance to make your menstrual cycle more regular. But the birth control part of it was nice too for situations like when your teammate randomly decides to fuck you senseless.

Soap nods, his gaze shifting back to his sketchbook. He seems to visibly relax knowing there wasn’t a chance of you being pregnant. “Good. Don’t have to worry about that. Let’s just move on then, alright? What we did last night doesn’t change anything.”

You bite the insight of your lip. “How can you say it doesn’t change anything?” It could be meaningless sex, but to say it didn’t change anything? That was ridiculous.

Soap pauses, his pencil hovering above the page. He doesn't look up, but you can see the tension in his shoulders. "Because it doesn’t," he says, his voice tight. "We had sex. It’s over. We move on."

You shake your head, frustration boiling over. “How can you just brush it off like it’s nothing."

He finally sets his pencil down, meeting your gaze with a hard stare. "What do you want me to say, States? That it meant something? That it was special? It wasn’t. It was a mistake if anything.”

You hesitate, your emotions a tangled mess. "I don’t know… It just doesn’t feel like it was nothing."

He sighs heavily, closing his sketchbook. "Look, it was a mistake. A moment of weakness. We both needed an outlet, and it happened. But that’s all it was.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "I just… Can I ask you something else?” You ask softly. There was still so much you wanted to get answers to.

Soap gives you a hard stare, but he eventually caves. “Sure. Go ahead.” Soap sighs, turning his gaze to look out at the lake. He clearly doesn’t want to keep talking about this with you, but he lets you continue anyway.

“I need to understand. Why did you kiss me? Why now, after everything?”

Soap’s jaw clenches slightly, you make out the slight pulse in his jaw when he does. “Because I needed to blow off some steam. Because we were both there, and it was convenient. Does it matter?”

“Yes, it matters!” You snap, your voice rising. “It matters because I need to know if this was just some spur-of-the-moment decision for you or if there’s something more to it.”

Soap sighs heavily, running a hand over his face in annoyance. “States,” he says, his tone softer but still firm. You can he’s trying to keep his cool. “I don’t have a better answer for you. It was just sex. That’s all it was. It was just a way to release some tension. There’s no hidden meaning behind it. No deeper nothing. It’s better if we just forget it and move on.”

“So that’s it?” You manage to say, voice trembling slightly. “We just go back to hating each other?”

Soap’s eyes meet yours. There’s a flicker of something—regret, maybe?—but it’s gone too quickly to be sure. “Yes, we go back to the way things were, and we forget this ever happened. It’s better that way.”

“How can we just act like nothing happened?”

“We just go about our lives like we did before we fucked. It’s not that hard, States.”

You bite your lip, fighting back tears. “Maybe for you!”

“Oh, don’t give me that shite. You’re a soldier. You know how to compartmentalize. Do it.”

You shake your head, frustration boiling over. “That’s not fair, Soap. You can’t just ignore my feelings because it’s easier for you.”

“I’m not ignoring your feelings! I’m trying not to make things more complicated than they need to be!”

“It’s already complicated! My whole relationship with you is complicated. And now I don’t know what the hell to do! People who hate each other don’t fuck each other.”

“I don’t know what to fucking tell you! I was angry, things have been tense between us for a long time, I wanted to release that tension. So I did. It wasn’t anything. Just a build up of too much tension that needed to be released. And it helped. The sex was good, but that’s all it was. If you can’t wrap your head around that, then that’s your problem, not mine,” he says coldly. “I’ve said what I needed to say. If you can’t move on, that’s on you.”

He picks up his sketchbook up off the ground and stands up, effectively ending the conversation. You continue to sit there, feeling more lost and confused than ever. The weight of his words hung heavily on your heart. You just had to forget it… Move on and act like it hadn’t happened. You regretted it, you wished it hadn’t happened.

Then why couldn’t you let it go?

Soap was more than willing to act like it was nothing. To go back to your normal lives. Though maybe the problem was that you didn’t want to go back. You didn’t want to go back to the way things were. Where you fought constantly and were always at each other’s throats. Maybe you hoped that sex meant Soap didn’t hate you after all. It certainly felt like he despised you even more now though.

The more you thought about it, the more angry you got. He kissed you, he was the one who’d had sex with you, he started all of this. All with the intention of just making himself feel better. No regard for how it might affect you. He really hated you that much? And he wouldn’t even tell you why he felt the way that he did. If you had some explanation, some reason, maybe it’d make it better to accept it, but he gave you nothing.

Feeling a new fire ignite inside you, one that didn’t want to go back, or at least wanted answers as to why Soap resented you, you get up and march after him. He’d been dodging the question every time you asked, but not anymore. If things were going to go back to how they were, you were going to know why he felt the way he did.

By the time you’re up, Soap is already walking up the steps of the porch and heading inside. You follow after him, trying to get to him before he tries to leave again or before you lose the nerve to talk with him.

You push the door of the cabin open and step inside, scanning the small space for him. He’s in the bedroom, tucking his journal away as you walk up to the doorway. As soon as Soap realizes you’re back, a sour look crosses his face.

“Fucking hell, what do you want? We’re done talking about last night.” He says firmly, going back to doing whatever it was he came in here to do.

“No we’re not.” You say as firmly as you can. It comes out a little shaky though. “If last night changes nothing, and if it meant nothing, if we have to just go back hating each other-“

“There is no ‘going back’ to hating each other. We always have, nothing ever changed that.” Soap interrupts, just stabbing another knife into your chest.

“Don’t interrupt me! If you’re going to hate me, that’s fine. But I want to know why you do.”

Soap visibly gets uncomfortable, his shoulders tensing. “I already told you, I don’t need to explain myself.”

“You kind of do. You can't just keep pushing me away, Soap. If you really hate me that much, at least have the decency to tell me why."

“I’m not doing this with you.”

“Yes you are! I deserve to know why you hate me. After everything you did yesterday, I deserve some answers.”

He clenches his jaw, looking away for a moment before finally meeting your gaze again. "Fine. You want to know why? Because you're always so damn stubborn, always in my face, challenging me, questioning everything I do."

Your heart is pounding in your chest. “So, you hate me because I stand up to you? Because I won't just roll over and let you constantly talk shit to me?”

“Yep.” He answers shortly, and you know he’s lying. Or at least not telling you everything.

“Bullshit. I didn’t start doing any of that to you for a long time. You were awful to me since I stepped foot on base. From our first introduction to each other. Was there someone else you wanted instead of me on the Task Force? Do you not like a girl joining your little group? Are you afraid I’m going to out perform you? Is it because the guys like me, and you can’t stand that?”

“We didn’t need you on our team! We were fine before you came along and ruined the entire dynamic.”

“You are literally the only one who thinks that!”

“Yeah, well, it’s not the first time I’ve seen a whole fucking unit crumble because no one wanted to believe me! I will not let you come in and tear everything apart!”

“I’m not going to tear you guys apart! I want to be on this team! I want to be with Price and Gaz and Ghost, and even you!”

“Yeah that’s what Annette said too!”

“Who’s Annette?” You ask, and Soap instantly closes himself off. He’s said too much. Got too caught up in the heat of the moment, slipped up, and revealed something to you he didn’t want to.

“She’s no one.” He says harshly before quickly continuing. “Look, you want to know why I fucking hate everything about you, States?” Soap is slowly approaching you, cornering you against the doorframe. “Oh, where to even start. You’re stubborn. You can’t keep your nose out of other people’s business. You’re annoying as hell. You’re an absolute shite soldier, one I can’t trust to have my back on the field. You’re reckless, you’re a liability, and you have no clue what it means to be part of a team. And don’t get me started on your pathetic attempts to prove yourself. You’re just a suck up to Price and the others. It’s embarrassing. You think you’re tough? You’re a joke. Every time you open your mouth, I want to walk the other way. You’re nothing but a thorn in my side, and I wish you’d never been assigned to this team. You’re weak, you’re useless, and you’re a bloody nuisance. That’s why I hate you, States. Because you’re not worth the dirt on my boots.”

You’re almost in tears as he finishes up. Your jaw is clenched tight to keep it from trembling, and you’re gripping the wood on the door frame so tightly you’re afraid it’s going to rip off. Soap has been a jerk to you in the past, but he’s never been this raw with his words before. At least you finally had an answer. One that felt real. Genuine. And shit, did it hurt.

“We’ve got three more fucking days together, States. Don’t speak to me again during that time. Understand?”

He’s leaning over you, face far too close for comfort. All you can do is nod your head, afraid that opening your mouth is going to make you break down. Soap huffs, his warm breath against your cheek before he pulls away.

“Going out for bit. Gonna be hours. Just letting you know so you don’t worry.” He tells you mockingly before leaving you against the doorframe. You listen for the sound of the cabin door closing before you sink to the ground, sobbing into your knees as you hug them close to you.

***

As Soap leaves the cabin, he can hear you crying inside. Despite all the horrible things he just said, after expressing how much he hated you, his heart tightens in his chest. It wasn’t that he liked saying those things… hell, he wasn’t even sure he meant half of those things anymore. But he refused to let you in. He couldn’t. And you just won’t understand that.

It was all just a mess. Truth was, things had changed yesterday when he had sex with you. The more time he spent thinking about it, the more he realized Ghost was right. He really did just need to fuck you and get it out of his system. For the split second that all the tension was resolved, he truly felt an attraction towards you.

And that scared him.

He hadn’t been expecting that. He thought you’d simply fuck and then have a breather for a moment. He didn’t expect to be rushed with this sudden urge to actually want to be with you.

These next three days couldn’t go by faster. He wanted this hell to be over. This torment to just end. He yearned to go back to how things were before he came here with you. Even if it’d been complicated before, it was better than how complicated it was now.

He listens to your sobs a moment more before shaking his head and heading for the woods. If he stayed a second longer, he was afraid he’d run back to you and do something he was going to regret.

***

You sat on the floor and cried for what felt like hours. Your eyes burned from how many tears had been leaking from them. The skin your around eyes was sore from how often you’d wiped at them, and your last clean shirt was now soiled with tears and snot. It wasn’t pretty…

After a few hours, you really couldn’t cry anymore. You didn’t think it was possible, but you’re sure you’ve run out of tears. You feel disgusting. Soap’s words played on repeat over and over in your head, and you’re beginning to believe them.

Liability… untrustworthy… embarrassing… weak… useless…

You didn’t want to be those things. And you know Ghost, Price, or Gaz would be so fast to dismiss them and reassure you that you weren’t. But they weren’t here, and they couldn’t tell you those things. The only person you had was Soap.

At some point, you decide you’ve had enough of sitting on the hard wood floor. You were a soldier. You know how to pull yourself together and keep going. So that’s what you were going to do. The first thing you were going to do was take a bath. Wash away any remnants of Soap. Wash away the things he’s said to you, the grim, the pain. Take the opportunity to clean yourself now that you felt like you were in a million pieces before you put yourself back together again.

You slowly collect all the things you needed for bathing and head outside. It’s warm. Beautiful as always. You hope maybe the sun will help you grow after feeling like you’ve wilted. You can only hope.

As you step onto the deck, you notice your shit covered boots still waiting outside to be cleaned. You might as well clean those too while you’re at it. Why shouldn’t everything have a fresh start. So you pick those up and carrying them down with you to the waters edge, dropping them in the dirt while dropping your towel on a nice patch of grass.

You strip down, no longer really caring about who is going to see you. You’re far too upset to care at this point. The sun is warm of your skin, but the water is cold. It always is. It’s numbing though, and you’d really like to feel numb for a little bit.

You’re stepping deeper and deeper, feeling an odd moment of calm. The water really is soothing. It’s helping to take your mind off the past three days. You close your eyes, soaking up the sunlight on your face and letting the water hold you.

You’re so deep into your own mind, trying to self soothe, that you don’t hear the silent steps of someone joining you on the shoreline. You don’t hear your boots being knocked over, or see your clothes being stepped on. It’s only when the feet of your unwanted guest step into the water, creating ripples and a plunking sound, that you realize you’re not alone.

An uneasy feeling overwhelms you and you shrink down slightly. “Soap?” You ask hesitantly, your first thought being that he was close by. But when you glance over your shoulder, it’s not Soap. Instead of meeting his angry blue eyes, you instead meet the angry black eyes of a black bear.

You gasp, almost losing your footing as you try to back away quickly into the deeper water to get some distance. There was a fair amount of distance between you and the bear already, but your first instinct was to get away from it.

The bear is sniffling the air, looking right at you. It’s watching your every movement like it’s reading your body language. Trying to decide if you’d be worth going after. It makes a few grunting sounds, which sound so familiar. This must have been the bear that was chasing you yesterday. It must have followed you here.

“G-go away!” You shout at it, not sure if you’re suppose to play dead or not. Clearly this bear knows you aren’t dead, and you honestly aren’t sure if the play dead thing was a myth or not.

Maybe it wasn’t a myth though, cause as soon as you shout at it, it raises onto its back legs and bellows at you. The sounds makes your heart thud harder in your chest, a shiver of fear running all through you. Its teeth look so sharp, it’s claws so long. Panic is starting to overtake you no matter how hard you try to push it down and keep a clear mind.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God… what the fuck do I do?” You mutter to yourself, yelping as it comes down on all fours again.

The bear starts to walk into the water, continuing to sniff the air and watch your every movement. It’s still grunting and growling at you as it slowly stalks towards you.

You’re frozen in fear, almost like you’re hoping it won’t see you if you stay super still, and it will go away. The creature takes a lunge at you, splashing up water before retreating a bit. Testing you. The sudden movement brings you back to the present, and you let out a scream, holding your arms up to shield you from the spray of water.

“Go away!” You shout louder this time and start to splash water towards it in hopes of scaring it off. It manages to make the animal jump and back away, but it recovers when it realizes the water didn’t hurt and starts to come in again.

It lunges again at you, letting out a long roar and getting closer. However, this time it doesn’t back away. Its mouth is hanging open and thick drool is dripping from its chops. It was like drooling at the very thought of having you for its next meal, a thought that makes you shiver.

“Get out of here! Go!” You shout some more. In a panic, you try to make more distance, swimming out a little further. The water was coming up to just under your chest now.

You avert your gaze for a split second to look around for a weapon, a stick or anything to defend yourself with, and the second you look away, the bear charges. You scream again, heart pounding and tears coming to your eyes. It was standing up again so it could touch the bottom of the lake, its arm taking a swipe at you. Luckily you’re still just out of reach.

“Go away! You fucking stupid animal! Go away!” You scream at it, backing up more.

To say you are terrified is an understatement. You’re naked and completely unprepared to fight off something like a bear. You can’t think, your mind still stressed and exhausted from the last few hours. You’re panicking and afraid that you’re going to die.

Then you hear, far off in the distance, a familiar voice. One you’ve never been more happy to hear in your entire life. As relieved and happy as you are to hear him, you hope it’s not going to be the last voice you ever hear.

“States?! States!!!”

***

[lila-lou]

✨ His only exception - Pt. 2/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! light smut, language, Soldier boy being too rough

Word Count: 1121

A/N: This is part 2 of "His only exeption".

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

As quickly as Ben smashed his lips into yours, you couldn’t even understand what was happening. Your whole body was covered in goosebumps that Ben caused as he pressed you against the cool wall behind you. Unwitting, he tightened his grip on your upper arms until it hurt.

Before you could even return the kiss, you pressed your palms against his chest as hard as you could, trying to push Ben away from you. At the same time, you turned your head to the side, which surprised Ben enough to pull his head back.

“The fuck, Ben! What’s wrong with you!”, you breathed, shocked and slightly disappointed. Ben, on the other hand, just furrowed his brows and looked at you, the corners of his mouth not even twitching. His expression was colder than ever. Without another word, he turned away from you and headed towards his room.

"I'm talking to you!", you said a little louder as you caught up with him and slapped his broad back from behind. Not particularly hard, although you could never hurt him anyway. At least physically.

“Leave me the fuck alone!”, he slapped your arm away, at the level of your wrist, way too roughly, which ended with an audible crack. A short, pained scream escapes your mouth, apparently loud enough to wake up Butcher and Frenchie.

“Fuck (y/n)! I... didn't mean-", Ben started, but his voice broke when Butcher and Frenchie came out of their rooms and saw you and Ben facing each other in the hallway. Butcher was just as dumbfounded as you. His gaze fell on your wrist, which you were clutching with your free hand, your eyes already glazed over with pain.

“Oi! What the fuck is going on?!”, Butcher grumbled with his arms crossed, looking from you to Ben as Frenchie walked towards you. “Nothing”, you whispered as Ben tried to open his bedroom door, but Butcher grabbed his forearm.

"You don't fucking want that Buddy!", Ben growled threateningly, his head turned to the side just enough to maintain eye contact with Butcher. He ripped his arm out of Butcher's grasp and looked at you one more time before disappearing into his room with a loud slam of the door. It was a miracle the door wasn't broken.

Butcher, driven by the fact that he was now permanently a supe, was about to drag Ben out of his room, but your voice stopped him.

“Leave him alone! Please”, you murmured, almost pleading.

Meanwhile, Frenchie examined your wrist and led you to the couch where you sat down. He quickly found a pressure bandage and wrapped it around your wrist as carefully as possible while you couldn't help but let out a small whimper.

“Now, can you tell me why Soldier Boy is pissed like hell and your hand looks like you taped it upside down?!”. Butcher was anything but rays of sunshine. He never was, but even less right now. However, you couldn't blame him. It was the middle of the night and the scene he found wasn't exactly promising.

Even though Ben had behaved quite peacefully, aside from his orgy escapades, Butcher still didn't trust him. However, he had gotten used to you by now. You could almost say he liked you.

 "It's not a big deal. It was an accident", you murmur, looking back at your wrist. "I... provoked him". Your acting must have been pretty good because Butcher obviously didn't question your statement.

“And why are you doing such bullshit? You know him and his fucking temper! Fuck. This guy is a fucking ticking nuke...literally!", he raised his eyebrows at the end of his sentence, as if he was slightly impressed by his pun.

“I know, I know”, you mumbled.

“All done, mon Coeur,” Frenchie said quietly before getting up and disappearing into his room without a word.

 “Butcher, look, he-”.

He didn’t even let you finish your sentence. Instead, he waved at you and muttered some words under his breath. “Just stay away from him. You’re doing yourself a favor, believe me”. Butcher’s gaze traveled from your face, down your body, back to your wrist. His furrowed eyebrows showed he was deep in thought. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but then stopped. Without saying another word, he walked barefoot back into his room and rubbed his hand on the back of his head, slightly overwhelmed.

With a deep sigh, you sank back onto the sofa and closed your eyes. Your head hurt more than your wrist as your left hand slowly moved to your mouth.

Lost in thought, your index and middle fingers slid over your lips as you reminisced about the kiss with Ben. Those little thoughts alone were enough to make your heart stumble. It felt like a hot ball was traveling from your heart through your stomach straight between your legs.

You couldn't imagine that one kiss was enough to make you see Ben completely differently. You could still taste his lips, whiskey mixed with weed and mint. What would have happened if you hadn't broken the kiss? How far would Ben have gone? How far would you have gone? Your thoughts slowly but surely drifted away. You looked around. The living room was still dimly lit. Everyone was back in their rooms and you were alone. While your injured wrist rested on the armrest, your other hand automatically slipped into your shorts.

“Oh hell no! Don't fucking do this to me! Not now!”, Soldier Boy growled almost desperately as he heard your rapid heartbeat and breathing, while he lay on his bed. It wasn't the first time he had listened to you getting yourself off. And well, you're definitely helped him quite a lot without even knowing it. You always tried to suppress your moans and make your movements slow and quiet, but Ben was always so focused on you that his ears would immediately perk up when you gave yourself a hand.

At first, he was a little surprised that he couldn't stop focusing on it, but after a few weeks he was really enjoying it.

At the moment, however, it was pure torture. His emotions were already overwhelming him, so there was no way he needed to be any hornier than he already was. Especially after he had just hurt you in more ways than one.

However, his cock clearly had more to decide than his head or his heart.

Meanwhile, you couldn't stop yourself. As you pumped two fingers inside you, your thoughts were on Ben. You imagined feeling his lips on yours again, his rough hands on your hips. You imagined what it would feel like if your fingers were his. Or something else.  

_

Part 3

-

Taglist: @deangirl96

[temis-de-leon]

Solomon x Insecure fem!S/O

Characters: Solomon x fem!MC

Main Masterlist

Requested by @kirshimadenkisero: hello! may i please request solomon with a fem! s/o who’s very self conscious about her appearance, such as her slight belly fat, the stretch marks on her inner thighs, her acne, etc? i’ve been struggling with my appearance lately and solomon is my go-to comfort character, so this would really help. thank you! drink water!

A/N: I didn't go much into detail with the self-deprecating thoughts or the body descriptions, but they're still there, at plain sight. I hope you like it and I deeply hope it makes you feel at least a little bit better. To Romance Anon and M. Anon, don't worry, I'm writing your requests too :)

CW: the mental struggles of being chubby and the physical struggles of being chubby in summer. Comparing your body with someone else's isn't good. Also, the sadness of being immortal

.

“Aren’t you hot?”

MC blinked at the question, moistening her eyes after several minutes of staring at the screen before turning to the side, but her body had slouched so far down the couch that she had to look up to talk to Solomon.

Her favourite fellow human had a mixture of emotions on his face: fondness, worry and surprise. His arms were completely spread out over the backrest, initially to offer her a place to rest and later to make more space for him to sweat. The air was sticky with warmth, blinds closed down to give them the full cinema experience and not a window open to keep the mosquitoes out.

To her greatest pleasure, Solomon had accepted defeat by the time the second movie started and took his shirt off. MC, on the other hand, although dying to do the same, was still wearing an oversized t-shirt and some ugly, worn down, capris pants. Every piece of fabric stuck to her skin like a punishment and beads of sweat travelled along the curves of her body to stain her clothes.

It wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t comfortable, but she didn’t want to change. They had a dinner party the night before and MC had the atrocious idea of wearing a long summer dress. When they finally got home, her inner thighs were red and hurting and the embarrassment had persisted for the next day and the entirety of their movie marathon.

So, not wanting to make him feel bad for her own insecurities while they were having a good time, MC chuckled and faked an excessive sultry look.

“Is that an actual question or a compliment?”

MC felt like her body was seconds away from exploding, breaking skin and searching for fresh air. The cooling spell he’d casted earlier must’ve slowly worn off while they were immersed in the beginning of the trilogy.

“I would say you’re hot, yes, but it was a legitimate question” he softly laughed. “Why don’t you take your pants off? Else, you’re going to get sick”

“I’m going to get sick from being too hot?”

A flick of impatience crossed his face, but he quickly erased it by laughing again.

“Well, I hope not. Otherwise you’d be bedridden”

His flattery made her genuinely smile and she noticed her face warming up from something significantly different than the high temperature in the room.

“You spend too much time with Asmodeus”

“Look who’s talking”

Solomon kept his mouth open and MC stared in apprehension, keeping a few uncomfortable seconds between them until he finally shook his head and turned to continue watching the movie. She tried to mask her relief, doing the same, but she could tell that he wasn’t as engrossed anymore.

Minutes passed, almost half an hour, until Solomon finally cooled down the room again with a wave of his hand. Her body eased and she almost broke with a satisfied groan, letting herself fall against his body and momentarily forgetting about her previous discomfort.

The darkness of the screen and the haunting chanting of a woman dragged her to unconsciousness, but she forced her eyes open, paying excessive attention to the plot. It was a sad scene, one of the saddest by far, and it wasn’t too long before Solomon’s hand creeped behind her back and grabbed her shoulder. At first she was confused and then, making her heart stop for just a second, she recognized what had suddenly worried her boyfriend.

“Do you think that’s how she felt?” she asked, trying not to see their relationship portrayed in the movie. “Lilith, I mean”

Solomon hummed, not letting her go, and slowly, but surely, started to nod. There was a hint of sadness in his eyes and she immediately wished things were different.

“Most probably, yes” he stayed silent for a few seconds, staring at Arwen crying on her father’s shoulder with great despair. Then, he said what MC desperately wanted to avoid hearing “That’s how I feel too”

A familiar sting closed her throat. The consequences of dating an immortal man, she supposed.

“I imagine going to your burial more often that I would like” he continued saying in a hushed, dark tone. “But I don’t think I would be able to leave after”

“What? You’ve never told me this!”  

“Well, it’s not the happiest of conversations”

“Don’t be like that” MC pleaded, sitting straight to look at him directly. “We don’t even know if that’s how it’s going to go. Maybe I'll turn immortal too”

He let out a humourless chuckle, pulling her close until she was sitting on his lap before pausing the movie. A heavy silence settled and MC became painfully aware of everything. It wasn’t the first time they had been so close to each other, but she didn’t feel happy about it this time, her body glued to his in such a way that the possibility of him not feeling every inch of her was almost non-existent.

The fateful end of their relationship, the depreciating thoughts about herself and the immense love he was looking at her with made her feel nauseous.

“Do you really think that?”

“If life has taught me something, is that anything can happen” she shrugged, brushing his hair before kissing his forehead. “Who knows? Maybe we’re not Aragorn and Arwen. Maybe we’re Gandalf and Galadriel and we’ll stay together until you grow a beard and I become pretty”

“You’re extremely beautiful”

Solomon looked like she offended him, which made her laugh, but she didn’t feel like she was lying. With fair smooth skin, long silken hair and a body resembling a dream, it was impossible to look at the elf and not feel disappointment.

“And I’m not like Gandalf”

“What do you mean? He’s a wizard and he’s an old man”

“Do not call me an old man” he begged with a heartbroken face, but she only laughed harder.

He smiled at her giddy expression, putting her hair behind her ear before making her head rest on his chest. MC thought he would play the movie again, but he didn’t move.

“Aren’t Gandalf and Galadriel just friends, anyway? I don’t want to be just friends with you, MC”

“He’s in love with her, though”

“Is he?”

“Are you serious? Look at her!”

“I don’t want to look at her, I want to look at you!” he laughed, sneaking his hand under her shirt and caressing her back. She thought of rejecting his touch, but with the way he was keeping her so close, that would’ve been a stupid decision. At the same time, his words made her heart beat ridiculously faster. “I don’t want to be Aragorn and date Arwen and I don’t want to be Gandalf and be in love with Galadriel. I want to be me, being in love with you and dating you. And no one is going to take that away from me, not even you”

Her throat closed again and her vision became blurry. How could she even answer that?

“Your tastes are messed up” she finally said in a wobbly voice.

“Your perception is messed up” he refuted, pushing her away to dry the tears and kiss the corner of her eyes, then her cheeks, the tip of her nose and, finally, her lips. “Let’s turn off the movie, I have something much better to look at tonight”

.

.

[ultram0th]

@rainbowhypno

Request: Aaron bigoted over religious straight homophobic man harasses Brad for being gay. Which ends up being a big mistake. Brad turns Aaron into a proud gay musky slutty man and makes him his boyfriend. Aaron tries to fight the changes but loses the fight. Aaron remembers his old life, but he is reprogrammed to remembers his old life but he is reprogrammed to love the man he is now. A out and proud slutty gay man

★······★

Brad was heading to his dorm room after a rough day of seemingly endless lectures. All the slender guy wanted was to lie down and numb his aching head with some random cat videos.

Before he could reach his dorm, he was hit with the sickly stench of beer as a red solo cup was tossed at him. Drenched in beer, Brad huffed as he looked up and saw none other than Aaron.

The big, beefy jock was a pain in Brad's ass. For whatever reason, the jerk had made it his mission to make Brad's life as hard as possible. He was always there to pester him or even "playfully" shove him too hard, always muttering some sort of slur under his breath.

Aaron mock-frowned at the wet Brad. "Sorry 'bout that, Ma'am," he almost sneered. "I thought you looked thirsty, but I didn't have some fruity cocktail. Hope that works."

Normally, Brad would've just tried his best to shrug off Aaron's homophobic shenanigans. However, this time, he was prepared.

The skinny man reached into his pocket and grabbed a fistful of the pink, shimmery powder that he'd purchased from a mysterious woman the other night. Then, like a scene out of a cartoon, Brad tossed the powder into Aaron's face, smiling widely as the larger man winced as his face was covered in pink.

"What the hell was that?" the muscled jock sputtered as he wiped at his face.

"You'll find out soon enough," Brad lowly chuckled as he prepared himself to watch was was going to happen.

"What does that mean-- UUUhhhh!" Aaron's voice cut off as all of his muscles seemed to tense up. It looked as if the big jock was flexing, but soon his eyes widened when he felt the cool air on his torso. Looking downward, Aaron was surprised to see that his shirt was gone, exposing his plump pecs and washboard stomach. "Wha--?"

His voice trailed off when he witnessed his pecs shudder before it looked as if they were beginning to inflate. The jock's jaw dropped when he saw his pecs steadily grow larger and rounder. It wasn't an exaggerated growth, especially when the rest of his body followed suit. His muscles grew in size, taking his body from jock to bodybuilder in mere seconds. He paled when he saw his abs gradually grow fainter until they disappeared, his stomach rounding out to form a firm musclegut. His pants felt painfully tight as his butt swelled up, his cheeks going from perky to full on beach ball size. They grew so large that they began to push his jeans down, exposing the top of his hairy crack to the whole dormitory. As a final touch, Aaron's skin began to itch as hair started to sprout over his body, leaving him with copious amounts of body hair, with most of it concentrated on his pits and chest.

When he was done growing, Aaron had to have gained at least fifty pounds of muscle and had sprouted lots of hair. His large hands explored his larger, hairier body, blushing when he caught of a whiff of the pungent musk that seemed to radiate off of him in waves, almost as if he'd just finished an intense workout.

"Whoa," Aaron groaned in a much deeper voice, "what happened to me, Bro?" He flinched at the slowish quality to his voice and the way he'd said Bro unconsciously. "My head feels so slow."

Brad just smiled at his work, thinking that this new Aaron would be a much better guy than the old one. "You're the new you," he grinned.

"The new me...?" Aaron wondered aloud, freezing when his eyes landed on the smaller guy before him. His heart began to race in his beefier chest, and despite himself, he felt his cock start to stiffen. Worse was that he felt an odd emptiness forming deep within his ass, and he unconsciously flexed his huge bubblebutt with want.

No matter what his brain told him, Aaron was horrified to find that he viewed Brad as... cute!?

"Oh no," Aaron groaned, paling at this new realization, especially as new memories started to filter into his brain. He was still a college jock attending university on a football scholarship, but now he was also the muscled up and dim-witted boyfriend of Brad. He could see crystal clear mental images of himself wearing the skimpiest clothing and flexing for the small man on command, loving it whenever his huge ass was stuffed full with Brad's cock. And not only his, but their supposed relationship was flexible enough to where Brad was cool with Aaron getting fucked and sucking off every other guy on the football team. Apparently not a night went by when Aaron wasn't bouncing on cock after cock and showing off his large, hairy muscles to every guy on campus... but apparently he had a huge soft spot for Brad.

Brad basked in the warmth that this new Aaron brought him. He stepped forward and ran an admiring hand over Aaron's hairy pecs, loving the way the formerly straight jerk shuddered at the contact.

"Hey, Babe," he teased, "why don't we go to our dorm and I'll fuck that huge butt of yours?"

Aaron wanted to decline, to beg to be changed back, but instead he felt himself pick up the smaller man with one arm and flex his other one. "Hell yeah, Bro," he smiled dimly, "you're gonna fuck me so damn hard all night!"

[yorshie]

Dunno if you still take requests. But maybe for when you feel like it? (No pressure tho. You can totally ignore this if it isn't up you alley.)

How do them turtle dudes like to romance their honeys? Like who uses strategy (badly)? Who goes with the flow (also badly)? Who just blurts it out the first moment they realize what they're feeling (so SO badly)? And who just buries it behind heaps and heaps of repression (the absolute worst)?

And what about after being assured that their feelings are reciprocated? Is there a change in behavior or demeanor?

🧁

Cupcake Nonnie, I am so sorry. I have no excuse. I have no idea why this was so hard to write, or why it took so long.

I decided two birds one stone sort of thing with this one, a blurb about how exactly starting a relationship with each turtle might go, followed with headcanon style of what they would expect out of a relationship, how it would progress, and how a good relationship would affect them.

As always set in 2023 so turtles are 24-25, SFW

Michelangelo

By the time Michelangelo asked you to be his girlfriend, you low key thought you’d already been going steady for about a month. The turtle shows up like clockwork every Friday at your place, with a pizza and a soda, and the two of you stay up late watching movies while cuddling on the couch. Several times, you’ve woken to him stealing a hug or a nuzzle before leaving before the sun’s up. 

So when he turns from the movie unexpectedly one night, the last item on your ‘what is Angelo about to ask me’ bingo card was a sheepish:

“Hey, babes, would you- will you be my girlfriend?”

You stared at him for a whole scene, taking in those baby blues, before you blurted out your own question. “I thought I already was?”

“Oh. Ok. Cool.” And he grinned like it was nothing, turning back to the tv, leaving you still staring at the side of his head like he’d turn back around with a ‘gotcha’. 

Needless to say, you didn’t pay attention to the rest of the movie. Mikey, to his credit, picked up on your mood during the credits, and you had a long conversation over what exactly the two of you wanted to be to the other.

Mikey’s love language is physical touch and quality time spent together

Angelo loves PDA. Soft kisses and nuzzles, hugs, you name it, he’ll try and get away with it. One of his favorite things to do, because he’s a little shit, is to see how many innuendos he can fit into a conversation while still maintaining decency, just to make you turn red and his brothers sigh in exasperation. 

Lowkey though, he doesn’t expect much from you other than your affection, and doesn’t have an overarching game plan. Sure, he celebrates anniversaries, but all the big milestones are simply tackled without him making a big deal out of them. One day you’ll just look up, realize you can’t tell where his stuff ends and yours begins, and have to come to terms with the fact that somehow the two of you are living together with no conversation about it happening.

Sunshine turtle approaches romance the same way he approaches life, with the firm belief that fun is the most important factor. Get ready for movie dates, late night parkour trips, canoodling on rooftops, etc. Just as often though, he will want to stay in. He’ll cook for you, cuddle while you while playing video games or watching a movie, include you in schemes and plans to drive his brothers crazy, anything to include you in his life or show off your bond to others. 

There isn’t a big difference to Mikey’s behavior after he knows you’re into him, though now when he gets in your space he doesn’t hold back from touching you. Turtle was a flirt beforehand, he’s a flirt afterwards. The only difference is, now when he says something you know eventually he will get around to trying it. He says something flirtatious that gets a reaction? He’s not gonna forget, and he’ll bring it up at a later date. 

He will stop flirting with everything that walks by eventually however. Guess calling you babes/babycakes/angelcakes in private had some spillover connotations (ie he can’t say it without thinking about you and it makes him gag trying to say it to anyone not you)

Donatello

Donnie’s blurted out his feelings for you in the middle of the Lair during Sunday Football. You’d arrived to find the turtles acting weird, leaving the room whenever you entered to grab snacks, suddenly making excuses and disappearing so every time you were left with an increasingly nervous Donnie who seemed to trail you around the Lair. By the time kick off happened, Raph, who seemed increasingly edgy, asked you to bring him another beer from the kitchen. You readily agreed, but when you turned from the fridge with the cold can Donnie blocked the way back to the others.

“Hey Don. You ok?” You asked, giving him a smile, craning your head back to meet his wide eyes.

“I like you.” He blurted out, practically looming over you.

You tilted your head, fighting the blush, convincing yourself not to read too much into it. “I like you to, Dee.” 

When you went to move around him though, thinking the moment was over, he caught your hand, grip slightly sweaty. “No, I mean…” He waited for you to meet his eyes again, and he visibly swallowed. “I- I like you.”

You eyes widened, a second before your smile followed. “Oh! Dee…” You set the beer to the side, covered his hand with your own. “I like you too.”

His answering smile lit up the whole room.

Donnie’s love language is gift giving and quality time. 

This turtle wants affection, but he doesn’t always know how to ask for it. You’ll have to pick up on his little cues to catch what he wants. Such as, if you notice him standing over you for periods of time before moving off and then returning, he might want to cuddle, and is just working up to asking for it. If you want things to go smoothly between the two of you, it’d be prudent to make a list of things you’re comfortable with and things you aren’t. It’ll stop him from worrying over things like hand holding and kisses, if he knows you’ll welcome his advances, and it’ll save you some headache trying to parse out what his nonverbal cues are if he is given free reign to just tell you what he would like. 

Dee’s idea of romance is to spend time with you, in whatever way you’ll let him. If you want to park your butt and watch him tinker in his lab or the garage, this turtle is all for it. If you mention there’s a play you want to see or a museum you’d like to go to, he’s already scheming on how to get the two of you in. The turtle disguise doesn’t work as well on him since he’s so tall, but he can sit in the very back and turn into a ninja statue just for you. 

He makes gadgets for you to stay in touch when you’re not with him, and readily goes into tangents about things you’ve said or done, or projects he’s working on for you. His brothers have learned to tune him out to various success. 

As far as changes after the two of you start a relationship, it’s easy to say that that it’s leverage over him and his habits. If he needs to eat, sleep, or just get away from his computer’s before the blue screen fries his brain, his brothers send in you. He gets in a snippy mood and clearly needs a night out or a break, you’re the only one that can convince him to go. Ooo, feel the power.

With you in his corner, Donnie blooms. Yes, he’s a genius and a sarcastic little shit beforehand, but now he has a cheerleader, a partner in crime, someone to fuel his crazy schemes and to be his rubber ducky on occasion. Anytime any old doubt trickles in, he only has to turn to you and be reminded that someone is always there for him, through thick and thin.

Raphael

You ended up confessing your feelings for Raph long before he’d gotten the courage to say anything. He probably would have continued to ignore his feelings, if you hadn’t cornered him in his weight room and spelled it out, angry that he’d been successfully giving you the cold shoulder for weeks.

“Hey, you wanna tell me what I did wrong, or are you gonna go sulk in the corner?” You asked, arms crossed and hip cocked, blocking the entrance to the weight room.

“M’not sulking.” Came the instant reply, though Raph didn’t turn to address you directly. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“Leo said I could find you here.” You narrowed your eyes as he rolled his.

“Course he did, stickin’ his nose into-”

“Your brother isn’t my concern, you are.”

“Yeah?” He grumbled, still not looking at you, moving to rack up the manhole covers on his bar. “Why’s that, princess?”

Normally, that nickname made you feel special. Now, it pissed you off. Made you stupidly, sarcastically honest. “It’s probably because I’m not into him, I’m into you, dum dum.”

The weights clanked loudly together, and he turned just his head, glared at you. “Oh, real funny. Don’t go jokin’ about that.”

“I’m hilarious.” You answered. “And I’m 100 percent serious, Raphael.”

He turned to face you fully, head cocked, eyes slowly going from defensive to wide the longer you stood your ground. “You serious?”

You nodded emphatically, and he snorted, ran his hand over his face. “Damn. That’s fucked, babygirl.”

“It is not!” You started angry, but the wide smile on his face broke you out of the emotion.

Raph’s love language is verbal affirmation and physical touch

Yea this turtle can’t decide which is worse, telling you how he feels or seeing his large hands next to your small ones. But he so desperately wants to find the words, so desperately wants to ask you to hold his hand. Expect for him to start coveting private moments with you. He’ll agonize over what to say, what to do. You’ll have to lead the way most of the time, at least at the beginning, until he gets over waiting for the other shoe to drop, for you to change your mind about him and all the issues that come along with him. 

Date nights with him are simple. He doesn’t like people, doesn’t like to be out of his comfort zone. He’d rather stay in with you, or up on the roofs where no one can see the two of you. He is very aware of how he is different from a human though, and so he will go out of his way to make sure he can bring normal things to the relationship. His gut instinct is to turn down anything new immediately, but all you have to do is pull out the goo goo eyes and he will bend. He wants to be helpful as possible to you to make up for the things he can’t do, and it’s up to you to make sure he understands how appreciated he is.

He loves to hear you voice your feelings for him, but he won’t outright ask for confirmation. Expect quiet moments where the two of you simply exist in the same space, or maybe cuddling while talking. Raph doesn’t like to be reminded of how different the two of you are though, so you might spend some time reassuring him that you love him, without telling him you don’t care about how different he is, because he will not believe you, or worse will get upset.

The differences in Raph are a long way down the line. At first, he might be even a little more standoffish, doubt and worry overtaking his usual responses. You’ll have to be dedicated to get anywhere past the initial ‘there’s no way this is gonna work, we’re both crazy for thinking this would work, you’re crazy for liking me, and I’m crazy for listening’ phase that will grip him hard. If you can weasel past that, however, be prepared to have someone that will never give up on you, ever. You’ll have a significant other that will come to your aid at the drop of a pin, at the first sign of trouble. 

He’ll mellow out over time, become a little softer around the edges and a little less ‘the world is out to get me and mine’. He might even tolerate his brothers’ teasings over the two of you, as long as they do it where you can’t hear, trading huffs and denial for small smiles and easy laughter at their pointed questions.

Leonardo

You found Leo waiting at your window, the same way you’d found him countless times. This time however, when you let him in, you were concerned at his formal movements. He was always careful, but now he was watching you as though waiting for something.

“Hey, Blue?” You asked, moving automatically to start tea, the way you had every time he came to visit. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine.” He answered, and you could tell it was a knee jerk reaction, but you let it slide.

“M’kay, well, I was just about to start dinner? How does that sweet chicken with the rice I made last month sound?” You asked, already knowing his answer, moving to grab the ingredients.

He surprised you by moving into your space, catching your hand. “Can we talk, for a moment, first?” 

You turned to give him your attention, careful to keep your movements slow as you took his hand. “Sure. Of course.”

Leo stood there for a moment, petting his thumb over the back of your hand, before he took a deep breath. “Stop me if I’m overstepping, but I need to speak my mind.” 

At your nod, he continued. “I like you, more than a friend, more than I should. I wanted- wondered, that is, if you could feel the same for me?”

If he had lifted his head at all, he would have seen your answer in the high wattage smile plastered across your face.

Leo’s love language is verbal affirmation and quality time spent together

This turtle has thought of everything. He’s intimately turned his feelings for you over and over in his mind, viewed them from every angle to inspect for marks or imperfections before he even accepts how he feels for you. Once he’s accepted them, get ready for slow burn romance. He has a sequence of steps the two of you must dance through in his head, and if you try and skip any steps he will want to backtrack to correct it. You want to hold hands for the first time and share a first kiss? He’s not going to turn down smooches, but he might not even notice you are posed for one, considering he’s too busy marveling at the feel of your much smaller hand in his.

Dates are simple things, he’s too paranoid to sneak into movies like Donnie or Mikey, instead he’ll go for walks with you, try and spot stars with you through the light pollution. If you want to do nothing but watch movies and lay against him, he’s in heaven, but he absolutely loves to hear you read from books out loud to him.

Expect lots of talks with Leo, but it’s less about sharing information and more he just wants to hear your voice, turn his brain off and simply exist for a moment where no one expects anything from him. Not to say he doesn’t listen, and not to say what you tell him isn’t important, but its calming to listen to simple workplace gossip after dealing with crime fighting and high stakes espionage. On the flip side, there will be times when he comes to you clearly lost in his head. In those instances, he just wants to be reminded that you care for him, that you’re by his side, that you willingly chose to be with him.

Most of the changes with Leo are the two of you are together happen privately, after all he is a very private person. The others don’t get to see him unravel, set aside everything bothering him. The first time you realized you cracked the code, is when Leo told you something that was bothering him, without getting defensive. Like he knew even if you disagreed with him there would be no judgement. After that, the two of you were inseparable. 

The only outwards change, that everyone picks up on, is his sense of humor. Before, it only came out in high stress situations, during fights, one-liners to goad others into making mistakes. But after meeting you, it morphs into quiet, humorous observations. The first time he dropped a joke in the middle of dinner just to make you snort into your soup, his brothers froze, wondering what the hell was happening. Raph legit asked Donnie if body snatching was a thing and if they needed to quarantine Leo. 

[beababoobies]

Hey, could you please do an angel dust x emo reader?

I am going to be using NB!reader for this but please do know I’m quite aware Angel is gay! He is canonically gay and I think that’s cool yippers ok lesgo 🙏🙏 by Emo I wasn’t sure exactly what you meant so I went with like an angry moody bitch with a 2000s MySpace Emo sort of aesthetic. If you want something diff feel free to re-request and specify! Thatz it :3 </3 (also Emo community please don’t attack me you guys are so cool I’m scared of you. I know corpse paint is gothic I swear please you guys are so cool).

Corpse Paint

Angel Dusk X Emo!NB!Reader

words : 1k , warning for mentions of sexual trauma!

You had been staying in this fucking hotel for months. Did it suck ass? Yes. Did you kind of maybe despise half the people here? Oh, absolutely. But - free place to crash, and it’s not like you were doing much with your days anyways, so the “rehabilitation” excersizes only got positivity-toxic half the time. Plus, Charlie let you skip out on them. Her little girlfriend didn’t though, so you were usually there dejectedly. Not anything worse than your highschool experience. 

But you also had Angel. Anthony. Whatever he let you call him depending on the day. And he was half the reason you stayed here. The amount of times you’ve crawled into bed with him and cried? You hadn’t cared to keep track of anymore. A long day, night - of shooting scenes, and you gently comforted him while he laid tiredly in bed, rubbing his back until he fell asleep. Plus, you liked his pig. You and fat nuggets would hangout whenever he was gone. 

You wouldn’t consider your relationship too romantic, but it was unbelievably supportive. You two didn’t really get intimate, due to his work, he didn’t trust anyone he was intimate with. He told you that that could change, but you reassured him over and over that it didn’t ever have to. You were happy gently comforting him. You were happy drinking with him, you were happy to be around him.

That didn’t mean he was completely touch-adverse, though. You exchanged small pecks on the cheeks, held hands - though not publicly, due to some of his fans obsessive behaviours - cuddled up. Charlie had offered to just let you guys share a room, but you had rejected the idea and shut it down pretty quickly. You loved each other very dearly, but sometimes you just needed space. 

Today wasn’t one of those days, though. You, head resting in his lap as he scrolled on his phone, your 2000s MySpace mix playing softly in the background as you looking through a new catalogue of Hell’s Most Edgy with a marker, circling anything you liked, Fat Nuggets sleeping soundly at Angel’s feet, snoring loudly. But adorably. 

“I have a favor to ask.” Angel mumbled out nervously. He hated asking for anything. Especially from someone he had already asked so much of. But you just nodded silently, circling a new, shiny pair of black platforms, before looking up at him with a small smile. “‘Sup, Webs?” You asked, tilting your head as you sat up properly.

“I - well, Val wants to do this shoot today, but he wants me to do Corpse paint. I don’t know how to do.. that. So I was wondering if you could help me out?” He asks with a nervous smile, only to watch the smile on your face grow wide, nodding excitedly as you hopped quickly off the bed to run to your room to get your makeup, disturbing a now cranky Fat Nuggets, who oinked at Angel before walking over to his bed to fall back to sleep. 

You came back into his room, closing the door quietly behind you, box of white cream foundation and a million sticks of eyeliner and other black makeup pencils, along with some dramatic statement lashes and lash glue, sitting down next to him on the bed on your knees, gesturing for him to sit up with his legs out straight. You straddled him softly, opening your box of makeup.

“So, this feels - kind of gross to put on. Gonna survive that?” You ask with a smile, tilting your head as he nodded with a small chuckle. “I’ve had much worse on my face.” He says with a wink and a smile. “I’ll survive.” He says with a shrug as you brush some of his fluff out of his face, starting to paint the thick white foundering over his pale pink fur, watching him awakward my try to avoid eye contact, hands awkwardly shifting, trying not to touch your thighs.

“You can put your hands on my thighs, it’s okay. I’m not going to initiate anything.” You say reassuringly and watch as one of his pairs of hands rest comfortably on your thighs, the other set holding up a mirror so he can see the work you’re doing. You watch him visibly relax slightly. He always is a little paranoid about people trying to be intimate with him - reasonably so - so you make sure to quietly reassure him in these moments. 

It takes a couple thick layers of the face paint to get his Angel stamp of approval, in which you go in with black eye-safe eyeliner for his eyes, coating them in black and following the image he used as reference, making streaks of black run from his eyes. You pierced your lips together as you leaned back to admire your work. “It’s missing something.” You mumble quietly, before peeking up and pulling out a pair of white lashes from your kit, and he smiles. You let him apply them himself, and with some white underliner, it looks perfect.

You give him some black lipstick, too, but that’s about the extent of what he wants. You give him your old lipstick too, because you and him both know he’s gonna need some re-applying. You watch as he walks over to the mirror, admiring your work - a job well done you’re sure - when he smiles at his reflection and the giddy way you smile back at him through your own reflection.

He pulls you up into a big hug and you giggle as he picks you up and spins you around, before you get him to put you down, smiling from ear to ear at how happy he looks with himself and the work you’ve done. His phone buzzes and he sighs, kissing you softly on the head before heading out, not even daring to put his famous sunglasses on and ruin your work. 

A new memory that’s keeping you sane in these old hotel walls. 

[floylia]

# MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾

04. I’m so wet tonight 💌

Destiny and fate are liken to strings you can’t untangle with ease. Two simple words with inexplainable concepts. A belief split into millions of definition.

But this might be fate—a doomed fate.

Cerulean eyes meet yours upon striding inside the store. The contact lasts longer than necessary. But within those few seconds, recognition is acknowledged on both sides.

That fateful day when a guy embarrassed himself and you watched it unfold.

You thought that was the last of it. Perhaps not.

You scan the small dairy isle, searching for an energy drink and a bucket of ice cream, while ignoring the pleads in the back of your head—constantly screeching about the humiliating past.

But who are you to feel embarrassed for him?

Why do you feel shame in the first place?

“Cash or card?”

“Cash.” You pass him the total amount, grabbing the wrinkled change you had in your wallet.

He takes it hesitantly, “By the way, about last time...”

Here we go.

“There was a rat in the locker room so I ran out like that. As for what I said… I don’t remember why I did that. But I promise, I’m not… a pervert,” The last phrase was faint as he whispers it in a breath.

You chuckle, “It made me laugh, don’t worry.”

One moment ago he was a grey cutout, now colors are back in his face as a grin reaches the wrinkles of his eyes, “So we’re cool?”

He looks like a dog wagging his tail after seeing a treat.

You nod, “Was that bothering you for a while?”

He breathes a sigh of relief—staring at you as if he had been derived of oxygen, “Yes! I was tossing my body back and forth that night, because my head refused to stop replaying the scene every time I closed my eyes. Can you imagine yourself doing that? Here I thought I was being mysterious.”

Not a single bone in his body was mysterious.

“People remember their own embarrassing moments more than other people’s, don’t stress about it.”

He shows his paper white teeth, “You have a way with words.”

“And you don’t,” You blurt out, recalling that moment.

Laughter engulfs the tense atmosphere.

“Fair enough. Fair enough. I’ll never live that down. My friends tease me enough already,” he hands you your change and the plastic bag worth of snacks.

The pit-a-patter outside makes your head swerve towards the window. Rain droplets fall from the heavens, gearing up as you spend minutes inside the establishment.

Checking the weather today slipped your mind, otherwise you would have brought an umbrella. Even though your dorm is nearby, running through the heavy downpour is not something you enjoy doing on a school night.

Navia would jerk her head in disapproval.

The ginger must have realized your conundrum.

“Here,” He offers you a small black umbrella, “You can use this.”

“No, no it’s alright. You might need to use that later.”

He shakes his head, “The store owns it. We have extra. Just borrow it for tonight. Then you can come back and return it. Think of this as an apology.”

“Thank you. I didn’t want to be drenched today. I’ll return this, I promise!”

A gentle smile pervades his face as he waves a goodbye. He observes you, crossing the street from the foggy window until your silhouette fades with the night sky.

In truth, the store didn’t own the umbrella. They don’t have an extra. It was his — but that is his little secret.

No harm done with a white lie.

NOTES:

kinda rushed (wrote the written parts in one night, i dont usually finish fics in one sitting)

ig he gained aura points?

was gonna post this later but fuck it 🤷‍♀️

SYNOPSIS: There’s a line Childe knows he shouldn’t cross; A line built on years of friendship; A line that happens to cross you, his best friend’s younger sister, grieving her first love; A line where he plays savior, wears a halo, then feign ignorance, because love is a game for fools—and he happens to be the biggest idiot when it comes to love.

When a new stranger invades your life and an old poet writes back.

CHILDE x FEM!READER

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[sosa2imagines]

You, me and Vegas! Part 15

Warning- Fluff, pure fun.

Truth was, as much as Peach enjoyed the attention from Andy and the thrill of teasing him, deep down, all she really wanted was Bucky.

Yes, Andy was handsome, polite and sweet, but he was not the man she loved. Her heart belonged to Bucky, and nothing was going to change that.

She clearly remembers, the first night of sharing the bed, after living together for so many days. Bucky was nervous about it and Peach had to reassure him, they are just sharing a bed nothing more is going to happen.

That was her Bucky, the shy, noble and respective of people's personal space.

Peach oblivious to Andy's true intention, only flirted with him, just to distract herself from the hurt. Bucky not standing up for her, his asshole parents and her own realization that she had fallen in love with him.

Andy, meanwhile, was struggling more and more to keep his facade up, as he continued his stalling tactics.

Bucky veered the car off the main road and onto the sidewalk, much to Steve's horror.

“What are you doing?!” Steve yelled, his grip on the seat tightening even more. “You're on the sidewalk!!!”

“Relax,” Bucky said, weaving the car through the pedestrians on the sidewalk. “It's a short cut. We'll get to city hall much faster this way.”

“We're gonna cause an accident, or run over someone!” Steve protested, but Bucky ignored him. He only had one thing on his mind - getting to city hall and stopping Peach from signing the papers.

They were almost there now, the city hall in view. Bucky pushed the gas pedal harder, the car jolting forward. Steve closed his eyes, muttering silent prayers for their safety.

And then suddenly, there was a sharp noise, followed by a jolt. Bucky and Steve were thrown forward in their seats as the car came to a grinding halt. Bucky's heart sank as he realized what had happened.

“Oh no,” he muttered, his voice filled with dread. “Please, no...”

Steve opened his eyes, looking around confused. “What happened?” he asked, still trying to calm down from the previous adrenaline rush.

“We hit something...” Bucky said, unbuckling his seat belt and getting out of the car. Steve followed suit, both men rushing to the front to see what they had hit.

When they reached the front of the car, Bucky's fears were confirmed. Laying motionless on the hood of the car was a stray cat that Bucky hadn't seen in time to avoid. Its body was limp, eyes staring lifelessly ahead.

Just as Bucky was about to mourn over the poor cat, Steve looked closer and realized something. “Wait, Bucky,” he said, gesturing towards the cat. “Look.”

Bucky turned his gaze back to the cat, seeing what Steve saw now. Its body was unnaturally stiff and rigid. It looked more like a toy than a real cat.

A young boy approached them, his arms crossed defiantly. “What do you think you're doing?” he demanded, his voice full of anger. “That's my cat.”

Bucky looked down at the child, who was no more than eight years old. He glanced back at the toy cat on the hood of the car. “Is this yours?”

The boy nodded, his cute chubby face still angry. “Of course, it's mine!” he said, as if Bucky was the dumbest person on the planet.

Bucky crouched down to the boy's eye level, trying to calm him down. “Look, I'm really sorry,” he said, his voice sincere. “I didn't see the cat. It was an accident. Please let us go. It's an emergency.”

The boy just stuck out his tongue defiantly. “You're not going anywhere...” he said firmly.

Bucky was starting to get frustrated, but he knew he had to keep his cool. He looked back to Steve, who was standing awkwardly to the side, watching the scene unfold.

“Steve,” Bucky said, his voice strained. “A little help here?”

Steve tried, really tried to explain the kid, but the kid was adamant, not to let them go. Seeing their time getting wasted, Bucky looked at Steve.

Steve could see the gears turning in Bucky's head, and he knew that look all too well. He had a habit of coming up with hare-brained schemes when things seemed impossible. Steve shook his head furiously, silently pleading with Bucky not to do anything stupid.

Bucky got back into the driver's seat and started the car again, while Steve slid into the backseat next to the boy, who was still holding his toy cat. Steve shot Bucky a look that said ‘this is not happening.’

Bucky just smirked, flooring the gas pedal and driving off. The car lurched forward, causing the boy to grab onto Steve tightly.

Bucky stomped on the gas pedal, the car lurching forward. Steve was now in the backseat, trying to console the still grumpy boy who was clutching his toy cat in his lap.

“Bucky, slow down a bit!” Steve protested from the backseat. “We have the kid with us now!”

Bucky just gritted his teeth, his focus solely on the road. “We have no time for caution,” he repeated, his voice tight. “Peach is waiting and we need to get there as fast as possible.”

“Bucky, we can't just kidnap a kid!” Steve protested, looking at the boy who was now sulking in the backseat.

Bucky just shrugged. “It's for the greater good,” he said, making a sharp turn. “We need to get to city hall, and this is the only way. Sorry kid, but we're bringing you along for the ride.”

The boy just huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don't like you.” he muttered, glaring at Bucky.

Steve sighed, rubbing his temples. This was not how he had imagined their mad dash to city hall to go.

Back at city hall, Peach felt like Bucky won’t come. The papers were laid out in front of her, and all she needed was to sign.

“Come on, Andy,” she urged, tapping her fingers on the desk. “Can I please sign them already?”

Sensing that he was running out of time and excuses, Andy did what he thought was the last resort. He quickly got up from his chair and walked around the desk to where Peach was sitting. Without warning, he enveloped her in a tight hug.

Peach was startled by the unexpected physical contact, but quickly softened into the hug. She wrapped her arms around Andy, surprised by his sudden change in attitude.

“What's this for?” she asked, looking up at him in confusion.

“I... I just needed to give you a hug,” Andy said, struggling to keep his voice steady. His mind was racing, trying to come up with a believable excuse. “You just... seem a little down. I thought a nice hug would cheer you up a bit.”

Meanwhile, in the car, the tension was mounting. Steve was still trying to keep the kid calm in the backseat, while Bucky was driving as fast as he dared through the crowded streets. The boy was still glaring at Bucky, holding his toy cat tightly.

“How much farther?” Steve asked, his voice taut.

Bucky just glanced at the road, his eyes fixed on the city hall building in the distance. “Almost there,” he replied. “Just a few more minutes.”

In city hall, Andy was still hugging Peach. He could feel her breathing on his shoulder, and his heart was racing like a drum. He knew he had to keep stalling, but how much longer could he keep this up?

“You really do give good hugs,” Peach murmured, her voice slightly muffled against his jacket. “I didn't expect you to be the touchy-feely type, though.”

“Yeah, well, we all have our secrets...” Andy replied, trying to keep his voice casual. He loosened his grip on her slightly, but didn't let go completely, still trying to buy time.

Just as things began to feel even more awkward between Andy and Peach, a loud voice rang out, cutting through the tension like a knife.

“Hands off my WIFE, BARBER!!”

Peach's eyes widened as she recognized the voice. Bucky had finally arrived at city hall and he looked furious.

Steve and the kid were trailing behind Bucky, struggling to keep up with his long stride. The kid was still clutching his toy cat, his face filled with curiosity.

“Bucky, wait up!” Steve called after him.

Bucky ignored Steve's plea and stormed into the office, his eyes locked onto Andy, who was now scurrying away like a frightened mouse.

“That's right, run, you little weasel!” Bucky yelled aloud, lunging forward with a swiftness that belied his large frame.

Andy let out a panicked scream and darted across the room, trying desperately to escape Bucky's wrath. He jumped over desks, dodged chairs, and even leaped over the watercooler, all in an attempt to evade the angry Bucky.

Bucky continued his relentless pursuit, knocking over chairs and desks as he went. He was like a bull in a china shop, causing chaos wherever he went. Meanwhile, the kid and Steve were watching the whole scene unfold in stunned amazement.

Just when it seemed like Bucky might catch up to Andy, Peach suddenly stepped in front of him, stopping him in his tracks.

“Bucky, stop!” she yelled. “What are you doing?”

Bucky froze, his eyes going from Andy, who was now hidden behind a potted plant, to Peach, who was looking up at him. Her expression was a mix of shock and concern.

“What do you mean, 'what am I doing?'” he sputtered, his voice still filled with anger. “This weasel was trying to make moves on my wife, on you!”

Peach's eyes widened in shock. “Andy? Making moves on me?” she repeated, a frown appearing on her face. “You can't seriously think that. Sure he flirted a bit, but the hug was genuine.”

Bucky's face darkened at the mention of the hug. “That's what I'm talking about!” he snarled, pointing in Andy's direction. “He was holding you, touching you, flirting with you. I won't stand for it!”

Peach stepped forward, her hands on her hips. “But why, Bucky?” she demanded, her voice firm. “Why does it bother you so much that he hugged me, that he was nice to me?”

Bucky's face twisted in a scowl. “Why do you think, Peach?” he said, his voice rising in volume. “Because I love you, damn it! I love you and I don't want anyone else touching you!”

Peach couldn't believe what she was hearing. Bucky's confession had blindsided her, taking her by complete surprise. Her heart began to race as she processed his words, her mind reeling.

She had thought, that her feelings for Bucky were one-sided. She had never imagined that he could return her feelings. But here he was, confessing his love in the middle of a chaotic city hall office.

Peach crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes locking onto Bucky's. “Why didn't you say this before?” she asked, her voice firm. “Why didn't you stand up for me last night? And where were you this morning?”

Bucky winced at the question. “I...I was scared, okay?” he mumbled, his tone a mixture of embarrassment and shame. “I was scared of losing you, of saying it wrong, of making a fool of myself.”

Bucky took a deep breath, his eyes meeting Peach's. “My parents,” he said, his voice heavy with resignation. “They've always been so hard on me, so hard on us. They have this idea of how I should live my life, and anything that differs from that, is seen as a disappointment. Standing up to them, even if it's for you, is like jumping into a lion's den barehanded.”

Bucky's expression softened a bit as he spoke, recalling his morning. “I was at my parents' house,” he said, his voice softer now. “We had a huge argument... about us. They don't approve of our friendship, of you. They wanted me to marry Dot! Can you believe it? ‘The prefers toilet for sex woman!’ But I finally stood up to them. I told them that we're together, that we're happy. And I even admitted that we got drunk married. And I have told them to never ever interfere in my life!”

Peach's eyes widened in disbelief. “You...stood up to your parents?” she repeated, her voice full of surprise and pride. “For real?”

Bucky nodded, a hint of a smile appearing on his lips. “For real,” he confirmed. “I told them that I love you, and I don't care what they think. I'm tired of living under their shadow, of letting them dictate my life.”

Bucky was on a roll now, the words tumbling out of him like a waterfall. He was on a mission to let Peach know how he felt, and he wasn't gonna let her get a word in edgewise.

“I'm tired of hiding my feelings,” he continued, his voice taking on a passionate note. “I'm tired of pretending like I don't care about you. I love you, Peach and I'm not gonna let anyone get in the way of that. Not my parents, not Andy, not anyone.”

Just as Bucky was gearing up for the next tirade, Peach suddenly stepped forward and silenced him with a kiss. Her lips met his, and she felt him melt into the kiss, all the tension and pent up energy leaving his body.

“Bucky,” she whispered, pulling back from the kiss just enough to speak. “I love you too, you big goof. Now relax and breathe.”

Bucky opened his eyes, staring down at Peach in a daze. “You...love me?” he repeated, as if he couldn't quite believe it. “Even after all the chaos I just caused?”

Peach chuckled, a soft smile on her face. “Especially after all the chaos you just caused,” she said, her fingers tracing the lines of his face. “It's kind of endearing, in a crazy, feral sort of way.”

Bucky's expression turned sheepish, a blush creeping up his neck. “You think I'm endearing when I'm feral?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, because that's what makes you, you...now who's the kid?”

Bucky reluctantly wrenched his gaze away from Peach and gestured to the kid, who was still clutching his toy cat and watching the spectacle unfold with wide eyes.

“That's just a kid we met on the way here,” Bucky explained, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “He's been tagging along.”

Just as Bucky finished speaking, the kid suddenly piped up, his voice filled with outrage. “No!” he protested, gesturing to the toy cat in his hand. “He crashed his car on my cat!”

Bucky immediately groaned, rolling his eyes. “Kid, it's just a toy,” he said, his patience wearing thin.

“But it's my cat!” the kid protested, holding the toy closer to his chest. “You crashed into it with your car!”

Bucky looked like he was on the verge of exploding, but Peach stepped in once again, her hand on his arm. “Okay, okay, let's all calm down,” she said, her voice soothing. You must be Steve? Nice to meet you.”

Steve, who had been watching the whole scene unfold with a mixture of amusement and confusion, finally spoke up. “Uh, yeah, I'm Steve,” he said, offering a tentative wave. “Nice to meet you too.”

Steve, looking a bit flushed at being suddenly addressed by Peach, quickly recounted the situation, explaining how he had asked Andy to stall for time, and how the hug was simply part of the ploy.

Andy, meanwhile, collapsed onto the nearby chair, a look of sheer relief on his face. He let out an exhausted sigh, grateful that the whole misunderstanding had finally been cleared up.

Peach listened intently, a small smile playing on her lips. Bucky, still holding her waist, grumbled under his breath.

Bucky, still grumbling, mumbled something about still not liking Andy. But Peach just elbowed him gently, her eyes sparkling with humor. “Bucky, relax,” she said, patting his hand on her hip. “No harm done.”

Bucky begrudgingly acquiesced, but his scowl didn't fully disappear. He kept a watchful eye on Andy, just to make sure there were no further antics.

Peach rolled her eyes at his protectiveness, but secretly found it endearing.

Part 14 - Part 16

Taglist- @imyourbratzdoll @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

@differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @nekoannie-chan

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@unaxv @pattiemac1 @lovely-geek @hzdhrtss

[rosemariiaa]

~It Was Always You~

part 1 here

pairing- Paige x Azzi

i shouldn’t be posting this late at night, but here you guys go <3

summary: Paige and Azzi face emotional strain in their strained relationship, feeling missing but hesitant to act, fearing they may lose each other forever.

warning: angst (again)

Enjoy!!!

Both Paige and Azzi looked up in agitation.

What do you want, Nick?” Azzi asked, her voice ice-cold, but Paige could see the way her hand trembled slightly, the tension in her posture.

Nick smirked, completely oblivious to the emotional storm he had just walked into. “Just wanted to see if you’ve changed your mind about going out sometime.”

Paige couldn’t breathe. She watched as Azzi struggled to find the words, her face contorting with frustration and anger. But before Azzi could speak, Paige pulled her hand away, her mind swirling with doubt and fear once more.

“I should go,” Paige said abruptly, her voice hollow. She stood up quickly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor, drawing the attention of their friends across the bar.

Azzi’s eyes widened with panic. “Paige, wait—”

But Paige couldn’t do it. She couldn’t stand there and watch Nick chip away at whatever was left of her and Azzi. It was too much. She turned on her heel and walked away, ignoring Azzi’s desperate calls.

Outside, the cool night air hit Paige like a slap in the face, but it did little to quell the storm inside her. She leaned against the brick wall of the building, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breathing, her mind a mess of confusion, fear, and heartbreak.

She had been so close to believing that things could be okay again, but Nick’s appearance had shattered that illusion, leaving her with nothing but the painful reminder that maybe she was destined to always be on the outside looking in.

Back inside Ted’s, Azzi watched Paige’s retreating form with a sense of helplessness and dread. She wanted to run after her, to tell her again and again that Nick meant nothing, that it was only Paige who mattered. But the weight of the situation pinned her to her seat, her heart sinking as the door swung shut behind Paige.

Nick opened his mouth to speak, but Azzi shot him a glare so fierce that he finally took the hint, backing away with a shrug. But the damage had already been done.

Azzi buried her face in her hands, the weight of everything crushing her. She had come so close to losing Paige forever, and now, with the night taking such a cruel turn, she feared that maybe she already had.

Paige walked through the dark streets, her footsteps echoing against the pavement. Her mind replayed the last few minutes over and over, each repetition cutting deeper into her heart.

She had wanted so badly to believe Azzi’s words, to trust that things could be different, but it felt like there was always something in the way—something that would keep them apart no matter how much they cared for each other.

As the night stretched on, Paige wondered if she and Azzi were doomed to be stuck in this painful cycle—one of love, fear, and misunderstandings that would always leave them teetering on the edge, never quite falling, but never truly being together either.

And as she walked further away from Ted’s, from Azzi, Paige couldn’t shake the feeling that she was walking away from the one thing that had ever truly mattered to her—and that maybe this time, she wouldn’t be able to come back from it.

She felt as though she were on autopilot, her feet carrying her forward while her thoughts remained trapped back in the bar, with Azzi. The night air was cold, but it did little to numb the pain that was rapidly growing in her chest.

As the days passed, Paige found herself sinking deeper into a spiral of regret. Every time she replayed the scene at Ted’s in her mind, she realized how badly she had messed up. She had wanted to protect herself, to guard her heart against the fear of losing Azzi, but in doing so, she had only succeeded in pushing her away. And now, it was Azzi who seemed to be slipping through her fingers, leaving Paige more alone and more afraid than she had ever been.

It was impossible to avoid Azzi entirely. They shared the same classes, the same practices, and the same friend group. But every time Paige saw her, it was like a knife twisting in her chest. Azzi, who had always been full of life and energy, now seemed drained, her bright smile replaced by a hollow, distant expression. Paige noticed the dark circles under Azzi’s eyes, the way her shoulders slumped as if carrying the weight of the world. She hated herself for being the reason Azzi was suffering.

At practice, the difference between them was painfully obvious. Paige and Azzi had always been the team’s dynamic duo, their chemistry on the court unparalleled. But now, the spark that had once made them unstoppable had faded, replaced by a tense awkwardness that was very viable to everyone around them.

The ball passed between them like a cold transaction, their movements stiff and uncertain. Where there had once been effortless synchronization, there was now hesitation. The flow of their game was interrupted by the invisible wall that had been built between them, a wall made of all the unsaid words, the unspoken fears, and the doubts that had festered since that night at Ted’s.

Their teammates noticed the change immediately. Nika, Aaliyah, KK, and Caroline exchanged worried glances as they watched Paige and Azzi struggle through practice. The two had always been the heart and soul of the team, and without them in sync, everything felt off.

“Something’s gotta give,” Nika muttered under her breath during a water break, her eyes trained on Paige, who was standing off to the side, staring at the ground with a lost expression.

Aaliyah nodded, her brow furrowed in concern. “They’re both stubborn as hell, but they’re hurting. I can see it in their eyes.”

“Yeah, and it’s more than just a rough patch,” KK added, glancing over at Azzi, who was mechanically dribbling a basketball, her focus elsewhere. “They need to figure this out before it breaks them.”

Caroline sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t know what’s going on with them, but it’s killing the vibe around here. We’ve gotta do something.”

But despite their friends’ best efforts to intervene, Paige and Azzi remained locked in their separate worlds of pain and regret. Every interaction between them was like walking on eggshells, each word carefully chosen, yet never quite right. The silences were even worse—heavy and suffocating, filled with the things they were both too scared to say.

At night, Paige would lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling, her thoughts consumed by Azzi. She missed her more than she could ever put into words. The sound of her laugh, the warmth of her touch, the way Azzi could always make her feel safe and understood—Paige longed for it all, and the emptiness left in its absence was unbearable.

But every time she tried to reach out, to say something, the fear would creep back in. What if Azzi didn’t want her anymore? What if it was too late to fix what she had broken? The thought of rejection paralyzed her, and so she would stay silent, letting the days slip by, each one heavier than the last.

Azzi, too, was struggling to keep it together. She missed Paige with a desperation that bordered on agony. Every time she saw her, it was like a punch to the gut—Paige, who had always been her anchor, now felt so far away, like a dream slipping through her fingers. Azzi could barely sleep, her nights plagued by endless thoughts of what could have been, what should have been. She would cry herself to sleep, the tears soaking into her pillow as she whispered Paige’s name into the darkness, hoping against hope that somehow, Paige could hear her.

The situation had taken its toll on Azzi in ways she hadn’t anticipated. She found it harder to concentrate in class, her grades slipping as her mind wandered back to Paige. She would catch herself daydreaming about the times when everything had been good between them, before Nick, before the doubt, before the distance. But every time she snapped back to reality, the harsh truth hit her like a cold wave—she had let Paige slip away, and now she didn’t know how to get her back.

Their friends watched helplessly as the two girls drifted further apart, both of them clearly suffering but too stubborn or too scared to make the first move. It was a painful stalemate, with neither willing to admit how much they needed the other, how much they missed the connection that had once seemed unbreakable.

For Paige, the loneliness was suffocating. She would find herself standing outside Azzi’s dorm room, her hand raised to knock, but she never could bring herself to do it. The words she wanted to say—“I’m sorry,” “I miss you,” “Please don’t leave me”—choked in her throat, and she would turn away, retreating to the safety of her own room where she would curl up in bed and let the tears fall.

And as the days blurred into nights, Paige began to realize that the longer she waited, the harder it would be to fix things. She was pushing Azzi further and further away, and with each passing day, the hole in her heart grew wider, deeper. She missed Azzi so much it hurt, and the thought that she was the reason Azzi was hurting too was almost too much to bear.

But how could she fix this? How could she bridge the gap she had helped create? The fear that had driven her to walk away from Azzi was still there, gnawing at her insides, but so was the love that refused to die, no matter how much she tried to bury it.

Paige knew she had to do something before it was too late, but the path forward was murky, fraught with uncertainty and pain. And so, she found herself standing at the edge of a precipice, unsure of whether to leap and risk everything or to stay where she was and risk losing the one person who mattered most.

But as she watched Azzi from afar, saw the toll this was taking on her as well, Paige knew deep down that she couldn’t keep running forever. Something had to change. She just hoped that when the time came, it wouldn’t be too late for them to find their way back to each other.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

As Long As No One Knows, Then Nobody Can Care

I'm Bright Baby Blue, Falling Into You

Chelsea!Roy Kent x Coach's Daughter!Reader

2.6k words

Warnings: Language, lying/sneaking around, kissing, no Ted Lasso characters except for Roy, fluff & flirting

You floated up to your bedroom late that night. And the next morning when you came down for breakfast. And while you walked next to your dad through the parking lot.

It had been a perfect evening. After a bit of making out with Roy, he wrapped his arm around you and let you lean on his shoulder for the rest of the movie, unabashedly glancing at you during all the romantic moments that were nothing compared to the look in his eye. After the movie, he walked you to your car, kissing you against the car door and promising to see you at training the next day.

And see you he did. When you followed your dad into the coaches’ office, Roy caught your eye from the changing room, where he stood holding his kit. He offered you that fucking smirk, raising a cool eyebrow at you before slipping his shirt on.

Fuck, he was going to be the death of you.

You spent the morning organizing some paperwork for your dad while the men were on the pitch, pretending that you weren’t thinking about Roy Kent and the way he’d kissed you. Once you finished, you joined your dad on the sidelines, wondering it was obvious that you were struggling more than usual to keep your eyes off of Roy. You smiled as you watched him run up and down the pitch, feeling your heart skip a beat every time you heard his booming voice.

“You alright?” Your dad’s voice interrupted your drooling. “You’ve been actin’ all dreamy all day.”

“Yeah,” you stammered out, quickly averting your eyes to literally any other player on the pitch. “Just fine, Dad.”

That seemed enough for him. For now, at least.

Once training ended for the day, you made your way to the boot room with a question from your dad for the kitman. Finding no kitman and only shoes, you took a moment to lean against a cool wall and close your eyes, trying not to dwell too hard on the image you’d just gotten of Roy wrapped in a towel after a shower. It was always a sight that left you flustered, but now that you knew what kissing the man felt like, the scene was something close to torture.

“Fuck’s wrong with you?”

Roy’s voice had your eyes snapping open. “Nothing,” you lied, both relieved and disappointed to see him fully dressed now. “Heading home, then?”

He shrugged and glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was nearby. “Got that Nike thing,” he reminded you. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, clearly thinking, before opening his mouth again. “Don’t suppose you’d want to come.”

That Nike thing. His Nike photoshoot, for advertisements that would probably follow you all over on billboards and in magazines. But yeah, sure, “that Nike thing”.

“Really?” You couldn’t hide the surprise in your suddenly squeaky voice. You’d hoped Roy would ask you out again, you were desperate for this to be more than just one perfect makeout session during a Nora Ephron movie, but this wasn’t what you expected.

His face was clearly amused as he nodded. “Sure,” he said softly. “Need someone there who’ll tell me if I look fucking stupid. What d’you say?”

What you wanted to say was that he’d never look stupid. What you wanted to say was that you’d go anywhere, do anything, as long as he was there too. But thankfully, you had some semblance of self-control that allowed you to answer, “Sounds fun, Kent.”

It was arranged in quick whispers. You’d meet Roy at his flat, and he’d drive you both to the studio. Afterwards he’d treat you to dinner as a thank you for joining him. Both of you were fighting smiles by the time you’d finished making your plans for the strangest second date you’d ever heard of.

“Don’t feel like you have to dress up for these fashion people,” Roy added before he turned to leave. “Wear what you like.”

A part of you initially thought this was his roundabout way of instructing you to dress up, to not embarrass him in front of the chic photographers and stylists that would no doubt be there. But when you saw the gentleness in his eyes, you realized it was something different. He wanted to make sure you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable or out of place in his world; he wanted you to feel like you belonged there. And damn, if you didn’t want to belong in his world.

After the two of you said goodbye with the tiniest kiss in the world, Roy slipped out of the boot room, taking your gaze with him. A Nike photoshoot with Roy Kent. You were going to a fucking Nike photoshoot with Roy fucking Kent. The thought had you wanting to spin in circles and squeal like a child. Instead, you simply met your dad at the car and half-listened to his chattering all the way home.

Once you were in the privacy of your room, you scoured your closet for the right outfit. You settled on a short, simple dress, one that you usually saved for nights out with friends or dates. After a touch of makeup, you listened carefully at your door for your parents. While jeans could slip by them easily, something like this was a bit more conspicuous.

“You’re all dressed up. Special plans?”

Oh, hell. Why couldn’t your dad catch you last night, when you were in jeans? Why did he have to catch you tonight, with your tiny dress and your hair all done?

“Just going out with the girls,” you lied, lied, lied. “Grab some dinner, maybe hit a club.” You nodded, trying to act nonchalant, like you weren’t sneaking out to see one of his players.

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes narrowing for a fraction of a second. “Alright, love.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, careful not to muss your hair. “Have fun. Make good choices.”

The words your dad had sent you off with since you were a teenager rambled in your head as you drove to Roy’s. He would not like this choice. Lying to your parents, seeing Roy Kent outside of football, letting him kiss you and, if he wanted to, even more than that.

But when Roy greeted you with an impressed “Fuuuuuuuck” and a dizzying kiss, you found that you really liked this choice. A hell of a lot.

Over the years, you’d been to tons of team picture days. You’d seen your dad take photos with fans. You had waved at photographers on game days. You weren’t new to the fame that came with professional football, not by a longshot.

But you’d never dated a professional athlete and gone to a photoshoot with him.

Roy sat still in the makeup chair, eyes on your reflection in the mirror as the makeup artist worked on his already perfect face. You relished the way his gaze roamed your figure, the way he was clearly trying not to smile and make the makeup artist’s job harder. When she pulled out the mascara, Roy narrowed his eyes.

“Do I want to wear fucking mascara?” he called to you playfully.

“You do,” you teased with a wink. “Very hot.”

Roy nodded to the makeup artist. “You heard the woman. Mascara time.”

Watching Roy do his photoshoot was nothing short of entertaining. Lights flashed blindingly as Roy took different poses, looking gorgeous as ever in black Nike trackpants. A young woman kept scurrying up to you, asking if you needed coffee or anything, nodding curtly every time you assured her you were fine. The scene in front of you was enough of a treat. The photographer tried to get the midfielder to smile over and over again, but all Roy would give was a scowl; luckily, Roy Kent looked damn good with a scowl on his face.

“Come on, Roy,” the photographer urged as Roy held a football between his hands and quirked an eyebrow. “One smile.” He glanced over his shoulder at you, perched politely in a chair some assistant had brought you. “For your girl,” he tried.

The corner of Roy’s mouth tugged upward for a fraction of a second before he narrowed his eyes playfully at you. “Do you want to see me fucking smile?” he teased.

Pretending that your face wasn’t on fire at being called Roy’s girl, you shrugged. “Dunno, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile. Might be ugly as hell.”

When Roy threw his head back in a surprised laugh, the chuckling photographer started clicking away, capturing the rarest sight of all: Roy Kent’s real smile. Fuck, some part of you hoped they’d use one of those pictures for the ad campaign. But a selfish part of you wished they wouldn’t, so that you could keep his smile all for yourself, locked up in your heart and memories, away from any and all prying eyes.

It was late by the time the photographer shook Roy’s hand and wished you both a good night. Roy took your hand in his with ease, as though he did all the time, and led you out of the studio and back to his car. He paused, hand hovering over your door’s handle, before glancing at you.

“D’you still want to grab some dinner?”

His voice was sharp and gruff, almost as if he was expecting a no, but his eyes were asking you to say yes. It was a pattern you were already beginning to recognize: when he wanted something, when he hoped for something, Roy hardened himself, anticipating rejection and disappointment, the two things you didn’t think you’d ever be able to give him.

“Of course,” you assured him with a small smile. “I really worked up an appetite, sitting there and watching you pose.”

He chuckled and let his shoulders loosen a bit. “Right. Better feed you before you have your dad make me run laps all fucking day.” He took your hand in his. “C’mon.”

With the late hour, the streets weren’t too full, and with Roy keeping his head dipped, no one noticed the Chelsea superstar wandering down the road holding the hand of his manager’s daughter. Still, your heart was pounding. All it would take was one person to recognize either one of you, to snap a photo of Roy and his mystery woman, and all hell would break loose. But feeling Roy squeeze your hand as you turned a corner made you feel like it might be worth it. He might be worth it.

“Anything sound good?” he asked, nodding towards the rows of pubs and restaurants.

Your eyes flickered from spot to spot, wondering how full these places were and how easily Roy would be recognized. Finally, your eyes landed on an unassuming little hot dog cart across the street. Its dull neon sign and tired-looking vendor looked like the perfect opportunity to avoid unwanted attention. With a squeeze to Roy’s hand, you nodded towards it.

He raised his eyebrows at you. “A fucking hot dog?” His mouth widened into a smile. “You’ve spent too much time eating stadium food, you know that?”

“I’d like to not walk into a crowded restaurant with Chelsea’s superstar,” you mumbled as Roy guided you across the street.

“Good point,” he chuckled. He gave a quick nod to the cart vendor. “Whatever she gets, just make it two.”

You quickly gave your order, never letting go of Roy’s hand as he stuffed a few bills into the man’s hand, mumbling something about keeping the change. Hot dogs in your free hands, the two of you wandered down the road a bit until you came across a park. Roy nodded to a nearby bench, secluded and tucked into a dark corner. A tree offered ample covering, letting in only twinkles of starlight and a couple of rays of moonlight. The two of you sat, close enough that your thighs were touching, and began munching on your simple dinner.

“How’s your hot dog?” Roy asked, his mouth half full of food.

Some part of you liked how comfortable he seemed next to you; you wondered if he was like this with all his dates. You sure as hell hoped not. “Good,” you answered after swallowing a particularly large bite. “Although, I’ve gotta say, this might be the weirdest second date I’ve ever been on, Kent.”

He quirked a thick eyebrow at you. “Date? Who said anything about a date?”

The teasing glint in his eye saved you from any sense of humiliation. “Oh, fuck me,” you laughed, throwing your head back.

Roy’s smirk grew as he shouldered you playfully. “Oi, not on the second date, princess.”

“Prick,” you mumbled, leaning close and planting a kiss on his cheek. “Eat your fucking hot dog, Kent.”

For once, Roy did as he was told, although his cocky grin remained. After a few moments of comfortable silence, he opened his mouth again. “How’s school?”

“It’s school,” you answered simply. “I go to classes, I see my friends, I do my writing. Boring and normal. Not exactly exciting stuff to someone who plays in the Premier League.”

He shook his head. “When your whole life is this one fucking thing,” he explained slowly, “then normal is pretty fucking interesting.” His soft eyes found yours. “Especially when it’s your normal.”

“My normal is reading fucking books and professors telling me why my writing sucks and having debates with twenty-year-olds who turn their noses up at my opinions in class, only to approach me at a pub that weekend,” you scoffed. “Your normal is playing football in front of sold-out crowds and dating models and doing Nike photoshoots.” You nudged his foot with yours. “You looked good, by the way,” you added. “In your photoshoot.”

Roy took your empty hot dog wrapper and balled it up along with his own. “It’s kind of weird, doing that shit,” he admitted. “But at least the photographer was pretty cool.” He studied your face carefully. “Sorry if he made you uncomfortable,” he added, his voice quickening. “With that whole ‘your girl’ thing.” He cleared his throat.

“It’s fine,” you assured him, your cheeks suddenly hot. “Just the risk I take hanging out with you, I guess.” Another kick to his foot, to assure him that the atmosphere between you was still light and playful.

When you looked at him, his face was hard, but not cold. Thoughtful was perhaps the best way to describe it. “It is a risk,” he said slowly. “Us seeing each other.” As he spoke, he reached out and took your hand, intertwining your fingers together. “But if I’m being fucking honest, it’s a risk I’m glad to be taking with you.”

Oh, hell. Your mouth went completely dry as Roy’s words hit your ears and your heart. In the time you’d known him at the club- and now in private- you never thought of Roy Kent as the romantic type. He had dates, not girlfriends, and when he did have girlfriends, the stunning women tended not to stick around for very long. And while he wasn’t vulgar in the changing room, he wasn’t a prude either. He’d roll his eyes and mumble something about his latest fling and joke about how whoever was questioning him would kill to be in Roy’s place. And you’d sit in the office wishing you could be in some model’s place with Roy. Roy Kent was a player, and it didn’t seem like he wanted the game to end anytime soon.

Yet there he was, his words soft and gentle, his wide eyes asking if you were okay with what he just said. Something that implied that this was a little more than a few stolen kisses and a pair of hot dogs in the park.

“Worth the risk,” you murmured quietly, so quiet he almost didn’t hear you.

But he did hear you. And your words had a small smile appearing on that beautiful face. A smile so perfect you couldn’t resist leaning forward and kissing it.

Taglist:@gee72sstuff@book-of-roses@kissykissymouth@emmy2811 @hart-kinsella @klaine-92@dearvoidgoodnight@misshall14@issieruby@royal-sunflower@kissmekent@veryprairieberry @itswhateveripromise @slaymybreathaway @darkmagazineblaze @larascorneroftheworld @infinetlyforgotten @caught-the-feels @rae4725 @sisinever @cskidjgsjaoaknayan52782

[sunburnhurts]

Distance || Robert Pattinson x fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n is working on a new big movie where her character is extremely mentally drained. Putting everything into the role, Y/n herself acts different towards everyone, including her fiancé, Robert Pattinson.

Words: 1,637

All My Stories

Warnings: Reader has a breakdown, it's just mentions of mental health, nothing too descriptive.

A/n: I don't put warnings in my stories, so take that as you will i guess?? Lol

When Y/n read through the script of her new movie, she grew worried at the amount of emotion that she has to put into her character. In the beginning of filming, everything was fine, mostly because all they were filming was the happy scenes in the movie. Towards the end, cast mates, directors, friends and family members noticed change in Y/n on and off the set.

The movie was filmed in the US, meaning Y/n and Robert wouldn't be together during the filming of her movie. Although they always called, FaceTimed, texted and sent each other stuff, the distance was hard. Robert started noticing Y/n response to texts slowly go from 1 minute, to 5, to 30, to hours. He never made a big deal about it, he didn't want to stress her out.

One day was particularly hard for Y/n to film. She wasn't able to sleep the night before, it was already a long day of filming, and she missed Rob so much. She was on set getting ready to film a scene where she was on the bathroom floor, crying hysterically. She was incredibly tired, she just wanted to go home, her head was fuzzy from how many scenes that day where she was crying and drained.

As she heard the director yell, "Action!" Y/n's head was blank, she was just thinking about pushing through the scene, but that only made her more upset. The camera panned on her standing up in the door of the bathroom. Her face had a blank, exhausted look, and it was 100% real. Her breaths became short and quick, her shoulders moving up and down.

Of course, to everyone on set she was just acting, and she was doing a damn good job. Her hair was pulled back in a low, messy bun, with her baby hairs blocking some of her face. Her eyes started darting around the fake bathroom, her breathing becoming heavier, indicating she was going to start crying.

She absentmindedly closed the door behind her without turning around, backing up and sliding her body down the door. Her eyes darted everywhere but the camera as it moved down to her. Tears weld up as she slid her hands across her face to move her hair.

She was now crying, her mouth open trying to catch air. "I can't do this," she whispered, growing even more dizzy from taking short breaths. "I can't do this," She repeated louder. She swallowed hard as tears were basically drowning her. In this scene, there was no dialog, everyone thought she was improvising because it fit the movie, but she wasn't.

The camera continuously slowly zoomed in, watching her hiccup her breaths. "I can't do this!" She shouts, bringing her hands to her hair, tightening her fists. Obviously, she was having a breakdown, but so was her character.

Once the director finally stopped filming, Y/n didn't move, her head in her hands hysterically crying. Everyone started cheering for her until they saw how she was still crying. She slowly got up, using the sink ledge to steady her because she was extremely light headed. One of her cast members, Jess, was the first to run over to her, putting her arm around her to steady her. They walked off set, into her trailer van.

Y/n thanks Jess, telling her she just needs to be alone. She nods, respecting Y/n's privacy. Once she was alone, Y/n laid on her bed, still crying. She wanted to be held by her fiancé, it's been too long now. She hasn't texted him in a few days, she hasn't even picked up her phone. She was either on set filming, or hiding in her van. At this point she didn't even know where her phone was.

Once she cooled down, she got up and looked around for her phone. She spotted it on the kitchen counter. She tried turning it on, but it was dead. As she plugged it in, she zoned out waiting. She was struggling to think of the happy things she was able to do after the movie was done.

She then thought about how her breakdown on set would get out to the public, they always do. Her phone lit up, bringing her out of her thoughts. She unlocked it, looking at the messages icon. 89 missed texts. She opened the app, seeing most of them were from Robert. The messaged spanned from 5 days ago to now. ~

Rob 💗: ^New Messages^ -Hey, we haven't called in a while, everything okay? -Call me when you can, okay? -Love?

-You're worrying me -You never responded to my texts yesterday -Is filming going well?

-Y/n please respond. -Just send me something to let me know you're okay

-Y/n -Please call me *4 missed calls* -Jess told me what happened, please answer. *2 missed calls* -What's going on?

~ Y/n reads the messages, heart aching. She sits there for a second, deciding whether calling him will make her calm down, or if it would make her miss him more and make her more sad. She stares down at her phone, still thinking. Then she presses 'call'.

There was barley any time for the phone to ring before Robert picked up. "Love, talk to me, what happened?" Robert's worried voice came through the phone. Y/n paused, listening to his voice, tears coming back to her eyes. She swallowed hard once again, hitching a deep breath.

"Rob.." She pauses once more. He waits for her to keep talking. She then starts explaining her situation. She tells him how much this role has affected her mentally, how much she loses sleep, how much she needs him.

"I had no clue you were feeling this- why didn't you tell me this!" He wasn't mad, he was extremely worried. He cursed at himself for not doing something sooner. But at the same time, there was nothing he could do.

"I don't know, I was just going to wait until I was done with the movie. I thought maybe I was just overrating or something,"

"Even if you were overreacting, I still would have been there," He thinks for a moment. "Do you know how much longer till you're done filming?"

"Um, like 2 weeks, maybe." Y/n answers. "I'll be fine, okay? I promise to call you if anything happens."

"Please do," Rob takes a break, "you really scared these past few days."

"I'm sorry about that- about not responding. I haven't been on my phone in days, I promise I wasn't purposefully ignoring you." She explains, looking down and playing with her shirt with her unoccupied hand.

"It's alright, I'm just glad you're not dead." He slightly jokes, lightening the mood. A huff of a laugh escaped Y/n as she fell silent.

"It's going to be so embarrassing watching that scene, they said it was perfect for the movie." Y/n sighs.

"Aw, love, it's okay." Rob says, frowning that he can't hold her and calm her down. "Listen, you have nothing to be embarrassed about, okay? I would never judge you."

"Yeah, you're right." Y/n nods. Robert then changed the subject, talking to her about the exciting things he planned to do for when she comes back.

~~~~

After the movie was completely finished, it was time for the red carpet premiere. Y/n still had a few hiccups while finishing filming, but she reached out for help whenever she could. She was now being interviewed by people on the red carpet, standing next to Robert. They were connected hand-in-hand as Y/n answered the questions about her movie.

After she took pictures with fans and was interviewed more, Y/n took her seat next to Rob, getting ready to see the film. Y/n was already worried about the movie, hoping that everyone likes it, that no one thought she was a bad actor. Along with that fear, she was afraid about the one particular bathroom scene.

Robert looked over as Y/n adjusted in her seat anxiously, placing a hand on hers, making her look at him. He sent her a smile, making her take a deep breath and smile back. The movie started playing, making Y/n cringe at first when she saw her face. She was just recently starting to get used to seeing her face on the big screen.

As the movie went on, Rob held his hand in hers, squeezing her hand whenever she looked away from the screen for a second. The screen switched scenes, it was now the bathroom part. Y/n pinched her lips with her teeth, eyes glued to the screen.

She watched as her character, who looked like a mess, close the door behind her, sliding down and crying. "I can't do this.. I can't do this.. I can't do this!" Echoed through the theater.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Robert lean down to her ear. "You're so beautiful." He whispers, turning back to the screen. This caused Y/n to look at him, confused and blushing. She thought about how she was having a break down, she looked a mess, she was hysterically crying, and all he could think about was how she looked beautiful. She smiles at the thought, looking back at the screen.

When the movie was finished, the theater was filled with applause, causing Y/n to break out in a smile. As people exited the theater, they stopped by Y/n to congratulate her on how good the movie was. A smile never left her face.

Once Y/n and Robert got into the back of a limo, Robert turned to hug her. He was so proud of her. Although he rarely tears up in movies, he had shed a tear or two. He praised you for your acting, he never brought up anything about the breakdown she had.

The End

*Not Pre-Read Yet*

A/n: Obviously I'm not an actor, but if I was, I would literally hate watching myself on screen.. But anyway, I hope you guys liked this! I don't really, but idk..